Dances With Wolves
by anyother
Summary: Nick Cutler has a plan. And of course it involves werewolves.
1. Chapter 1

Tom McNair. At first he was nothing but a means to an end. An opportunity. A werewolf had killed Hal, and I'd always hate Tom's species for that. Rumours had it that he'd been born a werewolf. I didn't think that was possible. But he'd been raised by one McNair, a man who was now dead but had been feared throughout our community. Civil servant turned commando. And that was our doing, for putting him in a cage with a dog. McNair survived, which made him special, cause not many do.

When the call came through I told Matthew I'd take this one myself. If he was surprised he didn't show it. Tom McNair was in custody for beating up an innocent man. Except his victim wasn't a man, but one of us. So much became clear once I'd seen the CCTV footage. Perfect. I put on a tie and walked the short distance to the police station.

'I'm a friend when you need one.' The lie came easily. And he took the bait. That night I dreamed about him. His large puppy dog eyes seemed to follow me around. He didn't know it yet, but I had plans for him.

* * *

><p>I parked the car on a side street from where I could watch the house unnoticed. The house was a rental, in the name of George Sands and Nina Pickering. But those two and their baby were dead. So who was living there now, apart from Tom McNair?<p>

My patience was rewarded. After what felt like ages Tom McNair came out, picking something from a flower basket. I held my breath for a second, while I watched how he stuck the wooden stake in his coat pocket. I'd seen him in action at Stoker's. Together with George Sands, father of the War Child, and a ghost. They'd decimated our lot.

I started following him, careful not to come too close. He was heading for a café, but instead of taking the front door he walked round the back of the building and opened a kitchen door. He took off his coat and put on a striped orange and white apron. He's got a job, I thought. At that moment my phone rang. I answered the call and walked back to my car because I was needed elsewhere.

* * *

><p>His dad, or foster dad, must have taught him. I asked Regus about McNair, and he told me all he knew about him. Dead now, to the relief of the British vampire community.<p>

'Do your records say anything about a son?' I asked him.

'Let's see. Do you have a name for him?'

'Tom McNair.' I said, surprised at how familiar the name sounded already.

'No. He had a wife, before he was turned. He survived a cage fight, would you believe that? Got himself scratched, though. Let's see – wife's dead, no mention of any kids. Are you absolutely sure?'

'Have you got a picture?'

He did. Two, to be precise. One of a rather timid civil servant, the other of a man with close cropped hair, nasty scars and outdoor clothes. Tom didn't resemble him. Only the hair and his choice of clothes were the same.

'And?' Regus asked.

'Nothing.' I said, and thanked him. He looked quite surprised. 'See you, Regus.' I said, and left.

* * *

><p>There were no records of a Tom McNair, except for a couple of namesakes who had clearly nothing to do with him. No birth certificate, no council registration, nothing. Regus had told me McNair had led the life of a recluse in the woods. Maybe he'd found the boy. Or had kidnapped him. But that didn't explain the fact that the boy was a dog.<p>

I was intrigued. I searched for the day he'd given as his birthday, but there was no one born that day with his name. So I decided to get some more help from Regus, and called him. 'Do you have any records on possible victims of this McNair?' I asked.

'I do, actually.' Regus said proudly. He sounded delighted. 'It's not scientific of course, but I think it's pretty accurate. Griffin didn't like it, though. Anyway, McNair was killed. Why do you want to know?'

'I'm trying to find out where he got his so called son from.' I said, truthfully.

'I see. I could help you with that. What's his age?'

I was surprised at how cooperative he was. 'Twenty one.' I answered. The day of the arrest had been his birthday. Or the day Tom thought was his birthday.

It didn't take Regus long. I was just having a bath when he called back. I wished he'd just sent me a text. But he probably didn't know how to. So I answered, careful not to drop my new i-phone in the water.

'I've found him. His birthday's correct. He lived in Cornwall. His parents were murdered, and so was he. At least, that's what everyone thought. They found some blood and tissue, but his body has never been found. It's a rural area. The police presumed wild animals had – well, you know – disposed of the body. It must have been him. I think he took the boy, and raised him as his own son.'

I sighed, holding back a sarcastic comment. 'He must have. But how come the kid's a dog too?' I asked.

'I told you, they found blood – what if he was scratched?'

Of course. 'You're a genius, Regus.' I said, satisfied I had solved that puzzle. 'I'd appreciate it if this stays between the two of us.' I didn't want him to tell Fergus what I was up to.

'No problem.' He said cheerfully.

Did Tom know? He'd been raised by the man, but did he know McNair wasn't his real dad, but the killer of his birth parents instead? I wanted to find out, but decided that could wait until later. I turned on the hot water tap and refilled the bath with steaming hot water.

I could be very patient. I'd planted the seed of doubt in Tom McNair's head, and now all I had to do was wait.

* * *

><p>Tom sent me a thank you note. On a piece of ugly stationery illustrated with tropical flowers and an 'HH' emblem in the upper right corner, in the handwriting of a child who's just learned the basics of writing. The note said: 'Thank you for helping me out the other day. Tom McNair.' Whoever had raised him had taught him manners. A wild boy with a streak of decency. I wondered what McNair Senior had been like.<p>

I'd just received the news that Fergus was dead and I was glad. We'd never liked each other, and his recent behaviour had been unforgivable. As if the fact that he was older than me and keen on settling all his issues with his fists and fangs made him Griffin's rightful heir.

But he and his makeshift army had simply disappeared, and now their deaths had been confirmed. He'd last been seen at the house where Tom McNair lived. Who else was living there? I couldn't imagine Tom killing Fergus and his merry group all by himself.

I remembered Griffin's words. 'A vampire, a werewolf and a ghost share a house.' But John Mitchell and George Sands were both dead now. What about the ghost? I didn't dare go near the house. Too many things had happened there. I called Regus, but he didn't answer my phone call.

I stared at Tom's note and thought: he's going to be my secret weapon. A plan was forming in my head. Griffin hadn't been interested. That man had so been living in the past. But he was dead and so was Fergus, and now I was in charge. Not that there was much of an empire left to rule, cause most of the vampires were dead, or had fled from our hideout.

* * *

><p>Even Regus seemed to have disappeared. The little den he called his office was empty. All his personal belongings had gone. What had happened? I picked up an abandoned dog-eared notebook from the dusty floor and flicked through pages full of his spidery handwriting.<p>

The notes didn't make much sense, even though I could decipher them. The blank page that followed turned out to be far more interesting. It had the imprint of the words from a page he must have torn out. From my briefcase I took a pencil and carefully scratched the paper, until I could read what it said. The words confused me.

It said: 'CUTLER – TAKE CARE.' And underneath he had written something that looked like a code: 'ISA5011-JOB1530'. A familiar code, which I didn't recognise right away, because I hadn't seen it for a long time. Bible verses.

Were they just notes? Or were they a message for me? For someone else maybe? Had he been suspicious of me? I didn't think he had any reason to. But what if my interest in werewolves had triggered it?

I tore out the page and put it in my pocket. I got out my phone and Googled the verses. The first one read: 'Behold, all you that kindle a fire, that encircle yourselves with sparks: walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks that you have kindled. This shall you have of my hand; you shall lie down in sorrow.' And the second said: 'He shall not depart out of darkness; the flame shall dry up his branches, and by the breath of his mouth shall he go away.'

Though I didn't understand what they meant, the words unsettled me. I went back to my office and stuck the note between the pages of a book. I called Regus again, but there still was no answer. Never mind. I sat down behind my desk, thinking. I had to go through with my plan. And Tom McNair would play the starring role.

* * *

><p>I was on duty that night. The first call came early. 'Special order' Roy said.<p>

'Who is it?' I asked.

'You'll see.' Roy loved playing little games.

He was a just a kid. And then I recognised him. He was the one who'd told me about Tom McNair. A miserable little sod. So he'd escaped unscathed during the massacre? There must be more to him then.

His eyes grew big when he saw me. 'You're one of them.' He said in his thick Welsh accent. He pressed himself against the wall, his eyes big with fear.

'You were there.' I said, matter of fact. I remembered his name. Dewi Jenkins. 'What's he here for, Roy?' Roy handed me a thin file. 'Joyriding?' I raised my eyebrows.

'Car's not registered in his name, and they think he's a minor.' Roy said.

'I'm not.' The boy protested. 'I'm an adult and all, and someone gave that car to me. It's a camper van, actually.'

'Right. You stay here. I'm going to have a chat with the officer who arrested you. Don't worry, I'll get you out of here in no time.' I said. But he did look worried, and I wondered why that was.

* * *

><p>'So it's not joyriding, you say?'<p>

'Firstly, Mr Jenkins has got a driver's licence. Which makes him old and capable enough of driving a car. I have to sayhe does look the part. And as for the car, it was given to him by a man named McNair. There happens to be a witness for that, which is good, cause the reason it's not registered in his name is that poor Mr McNair died recently. Tragic accident.'

I had to admit I was a little creative, moulding both McNairs into one person. 'Obviously the car's not registered in his name. I suppose you'll fine him for that. But it's hardly a reason to keep him in custody, don't you think?'

The man, one of the new policemen here, and definitely not one of us, sighed.

'He's right, you know.' Roy said.

The man didn't appreciate that. Grudgingly he said: 'Get him out here then. Go on.'

I went to tell the kid the good news. He didn't thank me. Instead he just looked frightened. He stank of stale sweat. 'You look like you could do with a shower.' I said. 'And I happen to have one.'

'Take care.' Roy said. 'Mr Cutler will charge you for his time as soon as you're out of here. And he's not cheap.'

'Shut up.' I said.

'What do you want from me? I'm sorry, honest, but there was nothing else I could do. They thought I was one of them. You know, the d-dog and the g-ghost. They threatened me. And then the other dog started bowling with severed heads. You've seen it, you were there. What was I supposed to do? And then this Tom guy gave me his car keys. I've never had a speeding ticket in my life. I don't do drunk driving.' He kept rambling on. I stopped listening after a while. 'You know how it is.' He said.

'Right.' I said.

* * *

><p>I took him home. He was still too scared to protest. 'Up the stairs, second door on the right.' I told him, and went into my office. I had to make a decision. Griffin would have punished the boy for his disloyalty. But I wasn't Griffin, and things were different now. Besides, he might have some useful information for me. I had to be sure of that first. I could always decide to take other measures later.<p>

I poured myself a whiskey and drank it in one gulp. Then I walked up the stairs and collected some old clothes. Socks, a shirt and a pair of trousers I never wore. I also found him a couple of towels. 'I brought you some clean clothes and towels.' I said through the door. He didn't answer.

I went downstairs, and left the door to my office ajar. To pass the time I read the boy's file. He'd had an earlier encounter with the police. That's when his picture had been taken. He'd been caught stealing a two bottles of vodka. In the statement he'd made he said they were for his mum. He'd been thirteen at the time, and hadn't been charged. But social services had been contacted, and the family had been under their scrutiny for two years. There'd been no other incidents.

I wondered who had made him. Regus would know, but that wasn't much help, cause I didn't know where he was. I had to admit I started to appreciate the man's qualities. So he was stuck in the past, but he did know an awful lot about contemporary history.

The comforts of my place had given Dewi more confidence. I'd been right about keeping the door ajar. He was curious enough to come in. He looked weird in my old clothes. And he'd been using Rachel's shampoo. Not her actual shampoo from back when she was still alive, mind, but the bottle I bought once a year on our wedding anniversary. Their was an online shop that still sold the old fashioned brand.

That part of my life was over. The shampoo was the only thing that reminded me of it. I never used it, but sometimes I spilled a little so I could breathe in the scent and pretend Rachel was there. And now this scruffy kid had used it to wash his bloody hair. I took a deep breath, and resisted the sudden urge to hurt and kill him. Cheeky sod. 'That's better.' I said.

I asked him what he was doing here. I'd heard Tom tell him to leave.

'It's my mum, see. I was scared Mr Fergus would hurt her, because of what I did. You see, he got out too. He's the one who made me. I was just reporting my stolen bike – it was a birthday present, see, from my gran. She was so upset when she heard I'd lost it. He must have seen what I did. And I'm sure he knows where my m-mum lives.' He hesitated, not sure whether he was doing a clever thing telling me all this.

'Go on.' I said. 'Fergus is dead, so he won't bother Mrs Jenkins. And you're the one who told me about Tom McNair, so I suppose I should be grateful to you.' I smiled at him reassuringly.

'You do?' he said, scratching the bite marks in his neck. 'That's such a relief. I seriously thought you'd be angry at me for killing that vampire. It was horrible. I still can't sleep at night, you see. Are you sure about Mr Fergus? Him being dead, I mean? Do you think I can go home now?'

His never ending nattering hurt my head. I wanted him to tell me something useful, or stop talking altogether. Listening to him was very tiring. I felt sorry for his mother. 'Tell me about the ghost first.' I said.

'The ghost? The one that played good cop?'

'What?' I said.

'It's what they did to make me tell them about Stoker's and the baby and that other werewolf. He was bad cop, she was supposed to be good cop. But she wasn't very good at role-playing. Started yelling at me right away. I'd never seen a ghost before –'

'Where did she go? Where does she live?' I interrupted.

'I don't know, do I? They came to our flat and after all the mayhem I left in the van. She was threatening to kill that old geezer, the hippie man. I can't remember his name. He's the one who's always talking.'

I couldn't help smiling at his description of Regus. This was a waste of time though. 'Go home.' I said, exhausted.

'Thank you, sir. I will. Just one thing – the money?' He looked genuinely worried once again.

'I'm a duty solicitor, so my services tonight are free of charge. That cop fooled you, Dewi. People do that to you. It's who you are. Get used to it.' I said, and opened the front door. 'Keep the clothes.' I said as an afterthought.

* * *

><p>Tom must have kept my business card. How else would he know which address to send his note to? I imagined him thumbing the piece of carton 'til it was smudgy, wondering whether I was indeed one of the good guys.<p>

He must be lonely. No one had come for him when he was arrested. It had been his birthday and he'd been out in the streets drinking on his own instead of celebrating at home. The one parent he had, and must have thought invincible, was dead, killed violently by William Herrick.

He was living in that big house with plenty of empty rooms. Maybe the ghost still lived there, if she hadn't faded by now. But the baby's crying had long died down, and the child, its parents and John Mitchell were dead.

I knew what it must be like for him. I'd felt the same way after Hal had died. First he'd made me burn all my bridges, and then he'd left. Sometimes I still heard his voice. The last time that happened was when I'd followed Tom to the café.

I thought of Griffin, and how glad I was that he'd died. He'd despised me, as much as I'd loathed him. He hadn't wanted me around, and he'd taken every opportunity to make me aware of that, but in the end he just had to put up with me. Because of Hal. I was so glad I didn't have to make his frigging tea anymore.

It was time for my lunch break and I was thirsty. Maybe I'd drop by Stoker's later. It was time to think of a way of resuming the disrupted blood supply. The supplies were growing thin. I was just about to go out for a quick sandwich and a latte when a reporter knocked on my door. I told him I had to be in court, but then he mentioned Tom McNair.

* * *

><p>I thought I'd be able to make good use of him. I had a story to tell to the world, and he was a reporter. He was dangerously preoccupied with vampires, but that couldn't be helped. Besides, I was convinced he didn't have any proof. I'd checked that by visiting him in his hotel room and examining his so called evidence. It's a huge advantage that we don't show on camera's.<p>

I almost felt sorry for him. He seemed so eager, and he was uncomfortably close. It was clear that no one took him seriously. His research was impressive, I had to give him that. He'd followed our trails throughout Britain to no avail. He sat down, defeated, and shook his head. And then he told me vampires had killed his mother.

There were four of them, he said. But he was wrong. I recognised his story and I knew there had been five of us. It must have been about twenty years ago. Jimmy Connor had found her, wooed her, and prepared the trap. He'd led the others to her apartment. But he hadn't thought of the child. None of us had.

I was late. I'd offered to park the car and it had taken me ages to find a free parking space. In fact it had taken me a bit longer than strictly necessary. I was hoping to miss the actual killing.

She was barely alive. They enjoyed hurting and scaring her, and they didn't want to end the fun just yet. They'd stopped her screaming out loud by gagging her with her own tights. The kid was hiding behind a door, crouched in the corner with his hand in his mouth to stop himself from screaming. His eyes were bright with fear as he watched Jimmy and his mates. He looked about eight years old.

I cursed. I didn't do kids. They were too busy to notice me. I picked up the kid and crept out again. His body was shaking against my chest. I left the building and walked to a small park I'd passed on my search for a place to park. It was a warm night. I found some shrubbery and put the kid down between the branches.

'Don't cry.' I said, careful to stand in the shadow so he couldn't see my face. 'What's your name?'

'Pete.' He said softly.

'Listen, Pete. You're safe now, but you have to be very quiet and sit very still, or else they'll find you. Do you think you can do that?' He nodded. 'Good boy.' I said, impatient to go back to the flat. 'Close your eyes.' I said, and when he had I walked away.

I hadn't given him another thought since. But here he was, all grown up and determined to find and expose us. Did he just say he'd been twelve at the time? He must have been small for his age. For a moment I sympathised with him. 'Hey.' I said. 'Keep looking. Keep digging. You'll find it one day.'

And then he dropped his bomb.

* * *

><p>It was a close call. I heard voices and footsteps, just as I left, but I managed to get out of the hotel unseen. Outside it was raining. I was shaking. I put up the collar of my coat, closed my eyes and let the raindrops wash the blood from my face and hands.<p>

What a mess. First that Wilson woman, and now Pete Travis. They'd left me no choice. I hadn't even enjoyed the blood. Somehow the taste was wrong. Foul. What on earth was the world coming to?

That night I had a nightmare. Little Pete was clinging to me, asking me why I'd bothered to let him live when I was going to kill him anyway. When I didn't answer he started crying. Hot wet tears that burned holes in my shirt and stung my skin.

Regus was in my dream too, holding his notebook in the air and waving excitedly. He was telling me something, but I couldn't understand him. I woke up covered in sweat. My face was wet. I must have been crying in my sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

'There's someone here to see you, Mr Cutler. Name of McNair. I suggested he make an appointment, but he said he'd rather wait, it being his lunch break an' all.' Matthew said, imitating Tom McNair's accent. He clearly didn't approve. 'I could tell him to leave.'

So Tom was back? Interesting. 'No, it's fine. Show him in.' I said and readjusted my tie.

'Mr McNair. Tom. What can I do for you?'

He was standing in the doorway, hesitating. I could see the outline of a wooden stake under his smudgy coat, but he didn't look threatening. I shook his hand, sticky with something greasy, and offered him a seat. He sat down.

'I hope it's convenient for you, Mr Cutler. I can understand if it's not, you being a busy man and all.'

'Don't worry. You're here now, aren't you?' I looked at my watch. 'I've got a client in half an hour. So consider this my lunch break.' I smiled.

'Yeah, mine too. That's why I brought these. He took two Styrofoam boxes from his bag, and handed me one. 'It's this week's special. Cheese and jalapeno burger.'

'Thank you.' I said. I wasn't hungry. 'Now, what is it you've come to see me about?' I said, and placed the box on my desktop. 'Coffee?' He preferred tea. I pushed a button on the intercom and asked Matthew to get me a double espresso and a tea.

Tom took a letter from his pocket. There were grease stains on the envelope. 'It's from the letting agency. The house was let to George and Nina. They say I'm not supposed to live there. But I pay the rent. Can they do that? We, I mean I, really need this place. It's my home.' He handed me the letter.

Carefully I took a bite from the burger. It wasn't half as bad as I'd expected. 'Good, eh?' Tom said proudly. I nodded, scanned the letter and gave him a stern look. 'Well?' he said.

'This is nothing to worry about, Thomas. They clearly don't approve of subletting, but I think I'll be able to persuade them to change the tenancy agreement, so that it's in your name. Do you have a passport or other identity card?' He shook his head.

'Right. I'll take care of that too. Don't worry.' I said and opened the door for him.

'Thank you, Mr Cutler.' He said, genuinely grateful. 'What do I owe you?'

'I told you it's my lunch break, didn't I? It's fine. You don't have to pay me for such a small favour.'

He shook my hand vigorously. 'Thanks, Mr Cutler, if there's owt I can do for you, just let me know.'

I smiled. 'I'll make sure I'll remember that, Tom.'

* * *

><p>'What did he want?' Matthew asked.<p>

'Client confidentiality, Matthew. You should know that by now.' I said sharply.

'Don't expect him to pay.' He said defiantly.

'One way or another, Matthew, my clients always pay.' I said.

* * *

><p>'What do you want me to do?' Dai Jenkins asked. We were standing in the dim light of the long closed Crystal Palace. The club was stripped of furniture, curtains and floor covering, and our voices sounded hollow in the empty space.<p>

I opened my briefcase and took out the contracts. 'Sign these. Here –' I showed him. '- and here. Now don't forget to read the small print.'

He hesitated and looked at his watch. 'I'm sure it's alright.' He said.

'It's your choice. I suppose I could leave the papers here, and come back tomorrow to collect them.' I suggested. It was a gamble. I didn't want him to actually read the documents.

It worked. 'Nah.' He said. 'It's fine. Here you go. But no complaints about the leaking pipes in the cellar. And your client will have to sort out the fire regulations himself.'

'No problem. He will be very pleased.' I swept the papers into my briefcase and shook his hand. 'It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr Jenkins.' My client now owned his derelict club. At least that's what I made Dai Jenkins think.

He was very different from his son Dewi, I thought as I walked back to my office. Hal would be proud. Well, he would have been if he'd still be alive. I could picture him smiling at my news. 'Clever Cutler. Always scheming to please me without getting your hands dirty.' I could even imagine the slight contempt I'd learned to put up with. I loosened my tie, so I could breathe.

* * *

><p>The old freezer at Stoker's wasn't reliable, I discovered when I went there to collect Doctor Wilson's body. The room was lukewarm and Wilson was rapidly decomposing. I should have got rid of her body earlier, but there hadn't been time and it was a job I'd gladly postponed.<p>

I took off my jacket, rolled up my shirt sleeves and wrapped her in a couple of extra strong plastic sheets. The stench was nauseating. I dragged the body to the back door where I'd parked her car. I had some difficulty carrying her into the boot. She was a dead weight.

It was completely dark when I sat down behind the wheel. I could still smell her. I opened the car windows, and used a can of air freshener I found in the glove compartment. Jenny Wilson had been well prepared.

I left the docks and drove in the direction of the hospital, along Port Road towards Bear's Wood and further North. I drove carefully, and kept to the speed limit. During the one hour drive I spotted at least four police cars. As I approached Brecon Beacons National Park there was less traffic.

On the radio a newsreader announced the resignation of a local councillor because of his alleged income tax fraud, and then moved on to the next topic. 'Doctor Wilson, coroner in the Box Tunnel Massacre, has been reported missing. Last week Doctor Wilson reported that the stomach of the Box Tunnel murderer contained human flesh. Doctor Wilson has last been seen outside Barry Magistrate's Court on Thursday, the twelfth of this month…'

'It was one of you. And then he apologised.' She had said. But who was he, the vampire that was frustrating my plans?' The only two vampires I knew that were capable of saying sorry were Dewi and Regus. But there was no way Dewi could have known about my plans, and as for Regus – he was too gentle to threaten anyone. It couldn't have been one of them. I wished I hadn't killed Wilson. Now I would never find out.

* * *

><p>The small track through the woodlands was still there. I remembered the first time I'd left the main road for that muddy track. Hal had given me directions. Nowadays we had Sat Nav, but I doubted this shortcut would show up on any device. The track was narrow. Twigs and low branches scratched the doors and windows.<p>

'Are you sure this is leading anywhere?' I'd asked Hal.

'Oh yes, it's definitely leading somewhere. Don't worry, we're almost there. Lots of open spaces, magnificent vistas and not a single person in sight to disturb us.' He'd replied.

I hadn't been very convinced and that must have shown.

'Trust me, Cutler. You don't want to carry her all the way from the Lower Neuadd car park. Unless you insist.'

He'd been right of course. He'd always been right. After what felt like ages we'd reached an open grassy area, next to the reservoir. The deep water glistened and I could hear the soft rustling of tree leaves, but nothing else. I'd never been anywhere this quiet before.

It was dark now. The water looked icy and black. There was no wind. I looked around and felt utterly alone.

We must have buried at least eight bodies here, back in the fifties. Always the same pattern. Hal leaning against the car, watching and smoking, while I got my hands dirty and dug the graves. There would be no need for that now. I tied a scarf in front of my nose and mouth and opened the boot. I wanted this one to be found.

I had difficulty getting her out. The plastic kept slipping from my hands. I wiped my brow and tried again. It took me ages, but at last I succeeded. I unwrapped the plastic and rolled her body onto the grass. In plain view, for whatever lone hiker of fisherman that would pass here first.

'You're not alone.' I said, in a futile attempt to shatter the numbing silence. I looked at the bumpy grass around me and tried to remember where we'd buried each of them. But the graves had long been grown over. No one would discover them now.

It was cold. I cast a last glance at the remains of Jenny Wilson and got back in the car. I was certain the discovery of the body would stir things up. It better had. I thought of the tramp I'd put on display in the woods near Barry.

His body with its gruesome wounds had been found in a matter of hours, but the media hadn't given him much attention. He was just a homeless man. Someone living rough, probably an addict. There'd been a few lines dedicated to him on page six of the local paper. I should have realised. Well, that couldn't be helped now. I turned the key and started the engine.

Margaret Torville, Martha Bean, Jarvis Carlyle, David Morecombe, Tania Blackwell, Jessica Moran, Holly Mears and Catherine Dean. I was surprised I could still remember their names. Pete Travis, Jenny Wilson, I thought and felt inexplicably sad for a minute. It passed. I turned on the radio and searched for Radio 4.

How many people had Tom McNair killed? But that was different, I supposed. He only killed vampires, because McNair had taught him. Was he the one who had killed Fergus? But Fergus hadn't been on his own. He and his private army had last been seen at the place where Tom lived. Who else lived there, besides Tom? Another wolf? I didn't think so. That ghost? Maybe. But I'd never heard of a ghost threatening, let alone kill vampires.

It was a puzzle I was too tired to solve. I turned up the volume of the radio and drove off, leaving Jenny Wilson to the elements.

* * *

><p>Tom was still grieving, I was certain of that. McNair had been his family, perhaps even his whole life. And now he was gone. That must have left a bloody big hole in Tom's heart. He'd even been sad when he was plastered. With his sad puppy dog eyes he'd be perfect as a model for one of those cliché paintings of crying gypsy children. But I had other plans for him.<p>

I'd already set the date. The next full moon, when he would transform again. It was a Saturday, the perfect day for the opening night of a new club. An event to remember, for the few that would survive.

Of course Tom would find out his victims weren't vampires, but innocent humans instead, but not until the inevitable had happened. And I would be there for him, and tell him it had all been a terrible misunderstanding. That is, if he would live that long. Chances were we'd have to get rid of all werewolves to show humanity how powerful we were. Maybe not all of them. I sincerely hoped Tom would live. With humanity terrified of werewolves Tom would be my trump card.

He'd never been to school. I could teach him things – he'd like that. He'd be grateful, would look up to me and utterly depend on me. For a very brief moment I thought of Rachel and the child she'd been carrying when Hal – when she died. My son.

I parked along the roadside and took a deep breath. I hated how I was drawn to the past. It was useless. My hand was shaking as I pulled up. Don't you worry, Tom, I thought. I'll look after you, if you do me proud.

* * *

><p>'I never promised you a rose garden.' With Hal's voice in my head I woke up. I felt disoriented for a while, until I remembered I was in a hotel in Cardiff. I lay curled up in the expensive sheets in the middle of the king-size bed. I'd been dreaming. I'd been doing that a lot lately. I got up and drank some water from the tap.<p>

Even though I'd worn gloves I could still smell the sick odour of Wilson's dead body. I'd spent an hour in the shower and had used up all the shower cream, but it was still there. I washed my hands, scrubbing them 'til they were red and the strong smell of the soap, Yardley Lily of the Valley, one of Rachel's favourites, made me feel queasy.

I stared at the empty mirror and wondered if I was losing it. It wasn't conscience that was bothering me, far from it. No, it was lack of control. Cool, calm, collected – that had been me for the past decades. But now doubt had crept in. What if my plan would go awry? What if Tom recognised me for what I really was, and refused to play my little game? And what if the arrival of the Old Ones would be a disillusion? I rubbed my eyes, suddenly weary. What's it all for, a small voice kept nagging at me.

At breakfast I scanned the morning papers. No news about Dr Wilson. Of course not. I called Matthew and told him to take care of business for me. 'I'll be back by noon.' Next I called Anthony Sears. He was an old client of mine, had his own building company, and he owed me. I'd asked him to renovate the club.

'Morning, Mr Cutler.' He said.

'How's it going?' I asked.

'Ever so smoothly. One of the walls sort of collapsed, but we'll soon fix that. It's a dump, though. Are you sure you want to pay good money for this?'

'I'm paying you to boost its potential.' I replied. 'How much input do you need?' I could hear voices in the background., and hammering and drilling as well. 'Are you alright?' I asked Sears.

'I'm fine. But Harry just slipped. Those cellars are dangerous. Did you know about the leakage?'

I sighed. 'Of course I did. Why do you think I got it cheap?'

'So what do you want me to do?' Sears asked.

'Make it look good, so that it'll pass fire and council regulations and make sure the electricity and construction will hold for at least a fortnight.'

'A fortnight?'

'Within budget. Need I say more?'

He laughed. 'Loud and clear, Mr Cutler. Who's your client, I'm curious.'

'Nothing for you to worry about.' I said.

He didn't ask any further. 'How's the Jacuzzi?' he asked instead.

'Just fine.' I said, and ended the call.

There was no client. Dai Jenkins still owned the club, even though he didn't know it. By the time I'd completed my plan vampires would have taken over the world and none of that would matter. But I never bet on a single horse, let alone dog. I had a back up plan. Whatever happened at the Crystal Palace, none of it could be held against me. I was just a solicitor, acting for my anonymous client.

But just in case I had a couple of open flight tickets and false ID's waiting for me. I hoped I would never need the tickets, nor the holiday cottage in the tropics or the false identities, even though I was childishly fond of my alias C.U. Nichols. I didn't like hot weather. My life there would be comfortable but boring, and it would mean my plan had failed.

* * *

><p>The next day I visited the letting agency and talked to the woman who had let the house to George and Nina. She talked a lot, with a shrill voice.<p>

'I remember there was a third person. Dark broody type. Only had eyes for the TV. And they said they were expecting a fourth person. A friend who acted in Midsomer Murders, if I remember right. I wonder what happened to those two?' she said.

'My client's number four. Mr Mitchell left.' I improvised.

'Your client's in Midsomer Murders?' she asked.

'Was. As an extra.' I smiled apologetically.

She shook her head. 'Funny people, if you don't mind me saying. We offered to do up the place, but they said they wanted to move in straightaway. Can you imagine that? They even liked that dreadful Hawaiian mural. You must have seen it.'

I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. 'Yes.' I lied.

'Well.' She said. 'I suppose I was just glad that they wanted to rent it. You see, people thought the house was haunted. Total rubbish of course, but the place was in a dreadful state.'

'So we have an understanding?' I asked. 'My client can stay?'

'If he can afford the rent. It's a large place for a man on his own.'

'He's been paying the rent these past few months. What makes you think that might change?' I said. She blushed.

'If there's anything that bothers you, just give me a call, Martina.' I said, and handed her my card.

* * *

><p>'You have a gift.' Hal had once said to me. 'You're a lousy killer, but you're good with words. Those lips are gold, Cutler.'<p>

It had been a compliment, and compliments from Hal were rare. I was still good, but sometimes it was too easy, almost boring. I loved to stir things up, occasionally. Though I'd loathed Fergus, I'd enjoyed our little arguments. But he was gone now, and so were Griffin and Regus, and there weren't that many people left to impress.

I was determined to dazzle the Old Ones, though. Make sure they'd know my name. I was due some recognition. I craved it, just as I craved the blood. That reminded me I had some calls to make.

I went home early. In one swift move I kicked off my shoes, took off my tie and undid the top buttons of my shirt. Better, much better. I sat down with a glass of vodka and switched on the telly.

National Geographic had a documentary on Siberian wolves. In Top Gear a couple of mad celebrities tried to get themselves killed at 200 miles per hour, and on the local news the murder of the Box Tunnel Twenty coroner was one of the headlines. They showed a picture of Dr Wilson that was all but flattering. One of her colleagues said she'd been nervous when they last met.

Animal Planet featured a man called the dog whisperer. He was training an Alsatian who was jealous of a newborn baby. I switched back to National Geographic and poured myself a second vodka. '…but without their pack they're lost.' The monotonous voice-over said. I grinned and thought of Tom. He'd definitely been lost, and I'd make good use of that. Trust it to me to show the world the difference between wolves and dogs. Soon Tom would be my puppet.

I switched channels again. On MTV Sting sang 'No matter what I do, I'm still hungry for you.' I took my phone and tweeted: They're out there and they're hungry for you.'

* * *

><p>Stoker's was quiet. I didn't mind. These last months before George and his cronies killed off most of the vampires the place had been rather too crowded for my liking. They came from all over the country, attracted by our shelter and supplies. 'We'll be noticed.' I'd warned Griffin, but he'd disagreed.<p>

'Not long now before the Old Ones are coming, Cutler. Besides, no one with the guts to check us out will leave alive or with his own teeth intact. The more the merrier.'

He'd been far too careless. I knew arrogance like his could get us killed. And I'd been proven right. I quite enjoyed the silence and spent some time preparing my master plan. It was eleven AM. I had to be in court by two, and I didn't expect visitors.

There'd been a few visitors in the past weeks, none of them promising or useful, and I'd sent them all packing. When the doors opened all I thought was that I should have locked them. I didn't look up when they came in. 'Look, there's no room at the inn. Kindly sod off.' I said and re-read my last tweets.

Show humanity something worse – that was my plan. It was simple, really. Expose the werewolves to humanity and they'll come running to us for help. The Old Ones would be pleased. But I wished they'd hurry up, cause I was having difficulty holding the fort.

They didn't leave. There were three of them, two men and a woman, and they took me by surprise. I didn't have time for this nonsense. I'd choose my own army, thank you. I had enough of people claiming either Griffin or Fergus was their maker. But Griffin had been very selective and didn't recruit much, and Fergus used to treat his recruits as disposables. When he was bored he got rid of them.

The woman was in charge, and the men were her lackeys. She looked as if she'd just stepped out of an eighties B-movie. The men looked stupid. I stepped forward to see what they were up to, prepared to tell them off a second time, but I didn't get the chance. My day had started so promising. And now everything fell apart.

Her name was Golda, she told me as she barged in and took control. I told her Griffin left me in charge, but she just laughed and said she didn't think so, and that she was here to prepare the arrival of the Old Ones. I hated her from the start. She had no business here, taking over from me.

I told her about Tom, in a foolish attempt to impress her, but I regretted it instantly. I should have known she wouldn't understand – she was a fool. As if the Old Ones would be impressed by a dog fight and a handful of concubines. She snatched my laptop and on top of that she humiliated me in front of her minions.

* * *

><p>'Excuse me, Mr Cutler, you were saying?' District Judge Deacon said. 'Did you just say your client is guilty? I seem to remember Mr Barnes himself pleaded not guilty at the previous session. I do hope you're not wasting our time?'<p>

Oh god. 'Excuse me. Not guilty is it, Sir.' I corrected myself. Deacon frowned, and my client, a small time crook arrested for shoplifting for the fourth time in a row, started fidgeting, suddenly worried.

I hadn't exactly promised him a discharge, but I'd assured him chances were I'd be able to get him off with a suspended sentence and a fine. But now he wasn't so sure anymore. I didn't blame him. I found it hard to concentrate after what had happened this morning. All I could think of was that bloody woman, Golda.

She'd humiliated me. Barging into Stoker's and assuming control. As I gave a character sketch of my client and dwelled on his circumstances, I kept hearing her voice. Her arrogant laughter. 'This wasn't the plan.' Someone coughed. Had I said that aloud?

'Would you care to elaborate on that, Mr Cutler?' Deacon said.

'It's therapy gone wrong.' I improvised. All eyes were on me. Something that usually didn't bother me. Now it made me sweat.

'Excuse me?' Deacon said, not amused.

'Mr Barnes here's trying to suppress his compulsive behaviour. He's well aware of the damage his kleptomania causes, and he's doing all he can to prevent himself from repeating his actions in the near future. His visit to the supermarket in question was part of a therapy session.'

'He was shoplifting.' Nichols, the prosecutor, said.

'An unfortunate relapse? No. My client was in fact returning some of the goods he'd taken on an earlier visit, when he was apprehended.' I avoided looking at Barnes. 'And he can proof he was. Take that bottle of Kia Ora that was found on him – that was long past it's use-by date. Do you seriously think the shop would still sell that? Think of public health issues, negligence, the lot. Need I say more?'

Silence. They all looked at me, confused.

Barnes got a fine and a suspended sentence, just as I'd predicted. 'Next time bring your therapist.' Deacon had said. Barnes was banned from the supermarket for a year.

'Piece of cake.' I said as I escorted him out of the building.

'You think so? What was all that about?' he asked.

'You leave the law to specialists, Barnes. Do you think you can pay the fine?'

He shrugged.

'I see.' I took out one of my business cards and a pen and wrote down a phone number for him. 'Go see this man. He'll help you out with a loan. That will cover both your fine and my fee.'

* * *

><p>My head hurt. I sat down on a park bench and watched a group of pigeons. I had to think of a way to get rid of that Golda woman. I had plans and her presence wasn't helping. Music drifted from an open window. 'Time, time, time is on my side. Yes it is.' Well, it would be, once I'd found a solution to the Golda problem.<p>

'Mr Cutler.' I heard and looked up. It was Dewi Jenkins. Great. He sat down next to me and kicked at the pigeons. He looked less anxious than he had the other day.

'Dewi. How are you?' I asked.

'Fine. My dad told me you bought the old Crystal Palace. I don't suppose he told you about the leaks?'

'My client.' I corrected him. 'And yes, he did tell me – what makes you think he wouldn't?'

'He's my dad, that's why. He's not a very reliable and trustworthy person. He left me and my mum, you see.'

'Ah.' I said. 'Well, he speaks very highly of you. Not about your sense of dress, obviously, but he's very positive, all in all.'

He kicked at the gravel beneath the bench and looked at his feet. 'I don't know about that, do I? It's not as if he visits me regularly. He left mum for another woman, see. A number of other women. The one he's with now is twenty-two, can you believe that? He knocked Shirley up and now they have twins. They're my little sisters, I suppose, but I only ever see them here, when she takes them to the park. They're called Patricia and Leticia. Shirley's actually quite pretty, but her babies both have dad's nose, so there must be some justice in this world. He even forgot to invite me to their birthday party. He's had loads of girls before, but I think this one's a keeper. Mum thinks he's gone crazy. I wouldn't mind baby sitting now and again, but he doesn't think I can handle the responsibility, see. I don't think that's fair. It's not my fault.'

'Right.' I broke into his endless litany. That kid made my ears ring.

'Sorry Mr Cutler. Did he really do that? Speak highly of me?'

'Absolutely.' There'd been some talk about lazy bums like his ex and good-for-nothing son, so much was true. 'Have you got a job?' I asked.

'No. I tried, I really did. And it wasn't my fault that I didn't finish school. It was the circumstances, you see.'

And maybe it would help if you wore a tie to your job interviews, I thought. 'Are you planning on staying in the area? I might have something for you. How well do you know that club?'

'I've known it all my life. It was his first club. I've helped in the kitchen. Mum said it was good for my people skills. He used to lock me in the cellar when he was mad at me. That happened quite often, to be honest. Do you think I could get a job there?' He sounded hopeful.

'That's for my client to decide. But I could throw in a good word. You won't disappoint me, though, would you?'

'No, of course not. I'd love to work there. Call it nostalgia, but what's wrong with that, I'd like to know?' So he was fond of the memories of his father bullying him? How odd.

'Now, don't get high hopes. I can only ask.' I warned him.

'You're the best, Mr Cutler.' He said, and offered me an Opal Fruit. 'Now, do you think we could have a talk about the blood?' he continued, almost whispering. 'I went to Stoker's, but there was this woman from hell. She shouted at me. Do you know her? What's she doing here?'

I sighed. That Golda woman again. 'You better watch out for her. She's nasty.' I said.

* * *

><p>I was standing in front of my office, searching for my keys, when I heard a familiar voice.<p>

'Mr Cutler? I wonder if we could have a chat? We need your help.'

Tom McNair. Again. And with him was a teenage girl. Young, small, and with a head full of dark curls and inquisitive eyes behind glasses. She had an enormous shoulder-bag full of badges.

'This is Allison. She's like – er, she's my friend.' Tom said. She was a werewolf. I could smell that.

Allison shook my hand. 'Nice to meet you, Mr Cutler. Tom says you're a solicitor, and that you've helped him recently? It's not exactly a legal matter we're here for, but if we could borrow some of your precious time…' She smiled broadly.

'Right.' I said, completely baffled. So Tom had found himself a she-wolf? Interesting. 'Yes, of course. Pleased to meet you. Do come in.' I said and returned her smile.

* * *

><p>I watched them leave. They walked close to each other and their arms almost touched. They looked so innocent, yet they'd just confessed to killing one of Golda's boys. And it wasn't even a full moon. The girl was smart, I had to grant her that. And Tom was completely smitten with her.<p>

Who'd have thought my schemes would result in matchmaking? Allison had seen my YouTube footage and had come looking for Tom. Two people who couldn't be more different, if it hadn't been for that one curse they had in common.

She'd trusted me instantly. Looked up to me. And I'd been flattered, even more so when she explained that she wanted to become a barrister. Tom was very impressed. She was everything and more he'd ever dreamed about. Had he ever had a girlfriend? I doubted it.

For a second, when they asked my about the YouTube footage, I'd been concerned. But then it became clear that they didn't have the slightest suspicion, and that gave me an idea. This was too good a chance to forego. Either way I'd profit. By sending them to the docks there was a reasonable chance they'd get rid of Kane and Golda for me. And if they failed I could always take the credit for providing Golda with two dogs.

They're just kids, I thought, still watching them. I even felt a little jealous. I had been like them, when Rachel and I were courting. I'd been in love with her for a long time before I'd found the courage to approach her. And then she said yes, and we got married and five years later Hal Yorke killed her.

They're young and in love and they think they're invincible, I thought. Please don't let them end up in Golda's cage. Or dead.

Wait. Where did that come from? I went inside and splashed some cold water on my face. You can do this, I told myself, and left for Stoker's.

_(to be continued)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Existence, well what does it matter?  
>I exist on the best terms I can.<br>The past is now part of my future,  
>The present is well out of hand.<br>The present is well out of hand._

_Heart and soul, one will burn_

_(Heart And Soul – Joy Division)_

'Peace offering?' Inwardly I cringed as I uttered the words and offered Golda a Latte Macchiato.

'Never ever grovel.' Hal would say. But this was an emergency . She was standing in the way of my plan. Right now I'd do just about anything to get rid of her, and if groveling was part of that, so be it.

That stupid git Kane thought I was trying to poison her. I waited impatiently while he tasted the coffee and told her it was clean. For a moment I wished I had poisoned the beverage. The sight of Kane dropping dead would have been deeply satisfying.

At first it looked like my ruse would succeed. Kane was ridiculously upset when I told them about Piot's unfortunate accident and I could see he tried Golda's patience. But when I asked if I could borrow him she refused point blank and made it very clear she didn't want me involved in any of her dealings. Not now, not ever.

The unfairness of her actions hurt, and the humiliation stung like acid. I craved revenge as I left. As soon I was out of earshot I called Tom.

* * *

><p>When I arrived home there was a postcard from Regus. I recognised his sloppy handwriting. On the back of a picture of a pleasure pier he wrote: 'The future's so bright, I've gotta wear shades. CM1592HF. R (&amp;M).'<p>

I wondered who M was, what his message meant and why he'd written to me in riddles. Twice. HF – have fun? It wasn't as if we were best friends. I knew he thought I was sly and an opportunist, just as I'd always thought he was a stubborn, slightly stuffy historian. Did he know about Golda, and why was he hiding in some seaside town with someone named M?

My hand was shaking as I picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured myself a glass. I needed something stronger, but that would involve another trip to Stoker's, and I'd had enough of Golda today, thank you.

Matthew was in court today, so I had the place to myself. I paced up and down my office and the hallway thinking of ways of making things right again. I was losing control, the reins slipping from my hands. This is not how it's supposed to be, I told myself, but I couldn't think of a solution.

* * *

><p>I called Dewi and asked him to meet me at the club. 'On my way, Mr Cutler.' He said eagerly. Just as I'd expected.<p>

I said hello to Anthony and his men, and beckoned Dewi to follow me. 'Show me.' I said.

'Show you what, Mr Cutler?' he asked.

'Everything. Let's start with the exits.' I suggested.

He knew his way around the place, I had to grant him that. It was a labyrinth, full of narrow corridors, offices and storage rooms. Next he showed me the basement. He hesitated for a split second before he walked down the stairs. 'Do you have the keys, Mr Cutler?' he asked, somewhat nervous.

'I do.' I reassured him. 'Don't worry.' So he was still scared of his dad and what he'd done to him? I thought of Tom McNair and how he'd adored his foster father who'd killed his biological parents. Fatherhood mystified me. But then my dad had died when I was six, and that was so long ago that I didn't have any clear memories of the man.

'What's over there?' I asked. There was another door, but Dewi wasn't very keen on opening it.

'Just another cellar.' He said, doing his best to sound indifferent, but failing desperately. I remembered what he'd told me in the park.

'Wait here.' I said, and opened the door myself. I turned on the light. Dewi had been right. It was just another cellar. It had been used as a storage room once. Now it was abandoned, just like the rest of the club had been before the start of the makeover. There was damp on the ceiling and there were spots of what looked like spilled frying oil on the concrete floor.

On a pile of cardboard boxes a tabby cat was sleeping. It woke up as soon as I came in, and screeched. 'That's Moron.' Dewi said from the doorway. 'Don't try to stroke her - she's mean. She scratches everyone who comes near her. And sometimes she bites. It really hurts. My dad must have decided to leave her here. Good riddance.'

For a moment the cat looked as if she was about to attack me, but when I showed her my fangs and hissed her tail thickened and she fled. 'Don't worry.' I said to Dewi. 'I'm more of a dog person.'

* * *

><p>Dewi bought biscuits in a nearby supermarket and made builder's tea. I drank mine standing, so as not to get my clothes dirty. 'Dewi here knows everything there's to know about this place. I think he'd be useful.' I told Anthony.<p>

'He doesn't look very strong.' Anthony objected.

'No. But he's clever. And cheap. He'll do everything you ask of him.'

Dewi smiled, and poured Anthony another tea. We'd just had a little talk. Dewi needed a job and I needed someone to watch the place. Anthony owed me, but he sometimes forgot about that when he was under pressure.

'I'll think about it. I could use some extra hands, now that Harry's on sick leave.' Anthony decided. He knew better than to say no to me.

* * *

><p>Tom still hadn't called me. Had he killed Kane? Or had he failed, and had I lost him?<p>

'Are you working late?' I heard Matthew say. I hadn't seen him come in.

'Why?' I asked.

'I'm supposed to have dinner with my parents in law. It's their wedding anniversary.' He looked tense. 'I completely understand if you need me here. It's just –'

'Don't grovel.' I said. 'Never grovel. No one will take you serious if you do. Now, what do you want?'

He grinned sheepishly. 'It's not exactly what I want. But my wife'll kill me if I don't show up.'

'So?' I insisted.

'So I suppose I don't want to work late tonight.'

I looked at my watch. Seven PM. 'Get me a curry first.' I said, and looked at my phone. No messages.

'What?' he said.

'A curry. Chicken Vindaloo. It'll only take you ten minutes. Then you're free to go and celebrate.'

* * *

><p>Still no news. I picked at my food. Matthew hadn't been happy. Maybe it was time for him to leave. I couldn't use him if he was holding grudges against me. I had far too much on my mind already, and didn't have time to worry about his loyalty on top of everything else.<p>

I opened a file, looked at the papers and closed it again. I turned on my computer and looked at my twitter account. It hadn't been tampered with. Good. Golda might have nicked my laptop, but she was clearly no wiz kid. Not surprising, really. Computers had been rare in the eighties, and she looked like she was still stuck in that decade.

My phone rang. 'Mr Cutler?' Tom. Thank god.

'How are you?' I asked, relieved. My investment was safe. He was alive.

'I'm fine, and so is Allison. We got the bastard, just like you told us. He was a bit over confident, like, but Allison got him. She's a natural.' He sounded excited, but there was also sadness in his voice. Like when I'd talked to him at the police station. I didn't understand. He'd found himself a female vampire slayer – surely, that should make him happy?

'Are you alright?' I asked, somewhat impatient. I had to resist the urge to leave immediately, and confront Golda with the loss of her second buddy.

'I'm alright, Mr Cutler. It's just, I don't know. It's Allison. She's different – not like she was before. And that scares me, to be honest. Have you ever had a girlfriend, Mr Cutler?'

'Tom.' I said, ignoring his question and trying to sound parental. 'It's new, and that scares you. That's completely normal. She's probably just as scared herself.'

'I don't know about that, Mr Cutler. She thinks it's all just a game, telling me I'm a vampire and I should stake her and all.'

'What?' I coughed, trying very hard not to laugh. It was funny, though.

'See? I told you she was acting all weird. That's not how it's supposed to be, is it? McNair never said it would be like this.'

No, he wouldn't, I thought. McNair must have tried all he could to keep Tom away from girls. Kind of cruel, come to think of it. Tom was twenty one and had never had the chance to fall in love before. No wonder it scared the shit out of him.

'What happened, Tom?' I asked.

'We had a row, and then she left. I need to find her, but I don't know where she went.'

'Maybe she went back home?' I suggested.

'No, she says she can't. Who wants a werewolf for a daughter, she said. They must be worried sick, her parents.'

'Do you think they know?'

'No, it would freak them out. She's kept it a secret. Do you think you can help me find her, Mr Cutler? She liked you. I think she'll listen to you.'

'I'll see what I can do. Don't you worry. She'll be back before you know it. That's what usually happens.' I reassured him, and tried very hard not to think of Rachel. She hadn't come back. She was the exception, but then she hadn't left me of her own free will.

* * *

><p>I didn't give much thought to Allison. I had more important things to do. I left for Stoker's in a hurry and almost stumbled on my way up to the conference room. Golda was on the phone. 'Problem?' I said casually, confident that time finally was on my side.<p>

Her fury was impressive. For a moment I thought she was going to kill me. But help came from where I'd least expected it.

'Leave him alone! I've got your back.' Allison. She was here, a stake and a crucifix in her hands, trying to look threatening. She had guts, I had to give her that. Coming here and confronting Golda all by herself. But it was a fool's errant. She was no match for Golda. Two kills did not make her an expert vampire slayer, and Golda was a tough one.

To my great surprise Allison managed to overpower Golda. She was just about to stake Golda when Tom came in and told her to stop. I couldn't believe my ears, and neither could Golda.

Golda smiled when Allison let her go. A devious little smile. 'She's dangerous.' I warned the wolves. And she was. Allison was too inexperienced and naïve to play this game and win. As soon as she shook hands with Golda, Golda took her chance. I'd seen it coming. I knew Golda – she was like me.

No. I didn't think or hesitate. Instead I lunged for the stake and stabbed her with it as hard as I could.

Golda turned to dust, leaving her clothes in a sorry heap on the floor. I looked from the dark red blood on the stake to Tom and Allison. Allison nodded and Tom smiled at me. All of a sudden Tom looked inexplicably mature for his age. Vampires do not kill one another as a rule. But now I had.

My ears buzzed, and there were voices screaming in my head.

_There are good vampires out there. I've set you free. You betrayed us for a dog? For a werewolf – there's a difference. It doesn't have to be like this. I don't want you to thank me. Wait 'til the Old Ones hear of this. She's dangerous. You're becoming the drunk who never buys a round. That's not fair. You like the blood, though. I'm a friend when you need one._

I smiled back, relieved.

'Are you alright, Mr Cutler?' Tom asked. All I could do was smile. I killed the bitch. I sat down on the stairs, suddenly dizzy.

Allison touched my shoulder. 'That was a very brave thing to do, Mr Cutler.' She said.

Brave? Not really. I'd stopped Golda from killing Allison because I didn't want Allison to die. That would only upset Tom, and I needed him for my plan.

'Come on, then.' Tom said. 'Let's get you out of here. You could do with some fresh air.' They helped me get up and I let them. What the hell was happening?

He wasn't just grateful, it was more than that. It was almost as if he cared about me. Not many people had in my lifetime. My mother had, in her own suffocating way. And Rachel. And sometimes I thought Hal had too – a little, that is. I'd forgotten the feeling. And now here it was and it scared the shit out of me.

* * *

><p>We sat outside in silence for a while. Not long now before the Old Ones would arrive. Would things get better? Everything had been so clear for the past few weeks. I had a plan and that would bring me fame. Recognition, fortune. People would look up to me. But since Golda's arrival things had gone astray. I wondered what Regus's message meant.<p>

In a short time the world would change. The new world wouldn't be a good place for humans and werewolves. I looked at the young sweethearts. They were smiling and whispering, sharing petty secrets in a world of their own. I had been like that once. Before Hal took my humanity away.

Allison touched me. Again. 'That was amazing, Mr Cutler.' She smiled, and then she frowned, as if something had occurred to her. 'Be right back.' She said breathless and ran inside.

'Allison, what are you doing?' Tom called after her.

'She'll be alright. There's no one there.' I said, staring into the darkness. Not long now. I wished I wasn't so tired.

'I've got it!' Allison returned, excited. In horror I looked at the notebook she was carrying. Talking about loose ends - this was a huge one. Damn.

'What's that?' Tom asked.

She sat down between us and opened it. 'This -' She said proudly, '- must be what she used for her "expose the werewolves" campaign. Not anymore, though.'

'Careful.' I said. 'Maybe it's protected against unauthorised use.'

She looked at me, hesitating. 'Do you think so? Yes, I suppose it may be. Well, we'll see about that. I had an excellent for computer skills last term.'

While she turned it on I feverishly tried to remember how many files were on it that might implicate me.

'This is weird.' She said. 'Some of it is password protected, but not all.' She opened a media file. It was a video of a naked woman having sex. Except she was alone, and her neck was bleeding.

'What the hell's that?' Tom said, grabbing the notebook from her.

'I don't know. It looks like pornography, but there's only one person in that video.' Allison said and tried to take the notebook from Tom. He didn't let go.

'It's degrading.' He said. 'That Golda woman was very sick. I'm glad you killed her, Mr Cutler.' He said, and before Allison could react he threw the notebook into the water. 'Good riddance.'

Thank you Tom, I said in silence, and thank you Golda, for your little weakness. I was safe now.

'What did you do?' Allison said, and looked at Tom angrily. 'There might have been useful information on it.'

'It was filth.' Tom said. 'I don't understand why you wanted to look at that.'

'I didn't want to look at it! But now we'll never know if she acted on her own. You've destroyed the evidence.'

'I'm quite sure she acted alone.' I said cheerfully. 'You killed her accomplices. So there's no harm done. I completely understand, Tom. That was disgusting.'

Allison sighed and took something from her coat pocket. I could feel it before I saw it. Her crucifix. I turned away from her, shielding myself from the blasted object with my arm. 'Would you mind putting that away?' I asked her, trying to sound calm.

'Allison, you're hurting Mr Cutler.' Tom said.

She giggled and put it away. 'Oops, I forgot.'

The pain subsided. 'Sorry, Mr Cutler.' She said.

'It's okay.' I said, but it wasn't. Allison was far to clever for my liking. If anyone would be able to see through my disguise it was her. 'Time to go home.' I said.

* * *

><p>I drove them home. 'See you soon.' I said to Tom. 'Take care.'<p>

'You too, Mr Cutler.' He said, and held open the door for Allison. 'Are you coming?'

'I am, I am.' She beamed. Before I knew it she leaned in through the open window and kissed my cheek. 'Thanks again, Mr Cutler. You're a true friend.' She said and followed Tom inside.

I'd succeeded. I'd got rid of Golda and more importantly, I'd gained Tom's and Allison's trust. What more did I need? A stiff drink, a bath to wash away the smells of the werewolves and Golda's perfume, and a good night's sleep. Things were looking up again. The Old Ones were coming.

* * *

><p>Next day I started recruiting. It was the part I didn't particularly enjoy, but it was necessary. I had to, if I wanted to avoid another Golda debacle.<p>

I made sure the bikers' clubhouse was almost deserted, because I didn't think I could handle more than one of them at the same time. 'Hey, Pluto.' I said to the single, longhaired biker inside. He was tall and looked dangerous. And he clearly didn't like being called Pluto.

'What did you just call me?' He said threatening, and walked towards me.

I shrugged. 'Just taking the Mickey.'

He didn't get the joke. He spat on the floor and came closer. He was quick, but I was faster. The second he grabbed me I went for his jugular. With his strong fingers he pinched me. It hurt, so I bit harder. He fell down like a log of wood.

I looked at my watch. Three fifteen. They were supposed to have a meeting by four, so there was plenty of time. I swallowed some of the man's blood and waited.

I'd just let him drink from my blood when a second biker came in. 'What have you done to Johnny?' he said, and tried to attack me. This one was smaller, but meaner. I kicked him in the shins and he stumbled and fell. The next bit was easy. I ambushed two more. My all time record.

When number four was out cold I wrote a note, saying the meeting was adjourned due to a sudden death in the family. I stuck the note on the outside of the door and locked every entrance to the clubhouse. Next I pulled down the blinds and bolted the doors on the inside. I put a plaster on my bleeding wrist and waited.

When the others arrived and discovered the place was closed they soon left. Now all I could do was wait for my recruits to wake up. At last they did, one after the other, somewhat dazed. 'Who are you?' the first one asked, still very weak and confused.

'I'm your maker.' I told him. When I was sure they all paid attention I blackened my eyes and showed my fangs. That frightened them. I told them what they were and what was expected of them. They were like putty in my hands. 'The four of you will be my special unit from now on. Stay with me and you'll achieve great things.' I promised. They didn't protest.

* * *

><p>I bought each of the lads a suit. Martin Finbar, my tailor, greeted me warmly. He wasn't the least bit surprised. 'So this is one of your projects, Cutler.' He said pleasantly. We were both members of the local Rotary club.<p>

'As you can see. How's your "Koi for Kids" project going?' I asked in return.

'Brilliantly. You should come and see us some time.'

I promised him I would.

'I know, we're all busy. Still, it's good to see you can still find the time to do something for our little community.' He shook hands with my new recruits.

'How much do I owe you?' I asked him.

'No, I won't hear of it.' He said. 'It's the least I can do. By the way, your Tom Ford suit has arrived. Would you like to try it on?'

'Not today. Maybe tomorrow.' I declined, and showed my pupils the way to the changing rooms.

* * *

><p>There was so much to do and so little time. But that was fine, now that there were no more obstacles in my way, I was relaxed once more, and confident that I could pull it off. Anthony had almost finished renovating the club and Dewi kept an eye on things for me. I'd hired a DJ and bartenders, and had used all my contacts to assure enough publicity for my one-off event.<p>

And I'd instructed my recruits, who would act as security staff on opening night. I was just preparing them for the arrival of the Old Ones, when someone forced open the doors.

Not again, I thought, and stopped talking to see who it was. It was a man. I was just about to tell him to sod off, when I recognised him. My heart skipped a couple of beats. Different clothes, different hairstyle, but the same piercing eyes, albeit a little tired. Hal. My maker. He was alive. But he couldn't be.

* * *

><p>'<em>Where's Hal?' Dominic asks. <em>

'_Talking to that stupid dog again, I guess.' Fergus says._

'_As if you would know. I bet you're don't even dare go near the creature,__ Fergie__.' Wyndham says scornfully to Fergus. He looks at his watch, and then at me 'You're behind schedule. That's sloppy. And I don't like sloppy.' _

_Wyndham gives me the creeps. I shrug. 'We're all set. Maybe one of the humans died prematurely, and Louis has to find a replacement. Those things happen.' _

'_They don't. Not where I'm in charge. This is no way to treat a guest - what was your name again?' _

'_Cutler. Sorry.' I say, raging inside._

_I leave Fergus and Dominic to wait on Wyndham, and go looking for Hal. I have to tell him Wyndham is not amused. Talking to that dog, Fergus said. I take the stairs down to the cellars. Hal is spending a lot of time in the company of this werewolf, Leo. Our prize fighter. Hal's the one who caught him, and so far Leo hadn't disappointed us. _

_To be honest Hal's fascination for Leo worries me. He's taking unnecessary risks, and he spends less and less time with his friends. With me. Take this visit from Wyndham. The old Hal would never run away from his responsibilities. He would be at Wyndham's beck and call, just like I am at his. _

_The cellars are cold and damp. On the left side the humans are imprisoned, and on the right side, isolated from the rest, the werewolf is kept. The walls are strong enough to stop a fully transformed werewolf. It has been Leo's home for months now._

_The door to the cells is ajar. I call Hal, but there is no answer. Everything is quiet. Maybe he's already left and arranged for Leo to be taken upstairs. But he wouldn't leave the door open. I look inside the room. It's empty, but something isn't right. The chains that held the wolf are broken, and there's a bundle on the dusty floor. Hal's clothes. His shirt, trousers, shoes and tie. And there is blood. _

_This isn't happening. Hal's a legend and legends don't die. He is my maker – there's no way he'd get himself killed by a werewolf and leave me. And it isn't even a full moon yet. I pick up the shirt and brush off the dirt, and then I__ realise__ that of course it isn't dirt, but Hal's ashes. _

_I've just scooped up a handful, when Wyndham comes in. 'What's keeping you, Cutter? Where's__ Hal__? And where are you hiding that dog? I can smell the ugly beast.' He says. _

'_It's Cutler. My name's Cutler. And I think Hal is dead.' I say, and collapse against the wall._

* * *

><p>'It's you.' He said. I hugged him. He was real, even though he didn't hug me back. That should have made me suspicious, but it didn't, not until he suddenly left after I'd offered him a drink.<p>

I was still recovering from the shock of seeing him, alive when I thought he had been dead for all these years, when Mark said: 'I thought you said your maker was an Old One?'

I emptied both glasses, to stop myself from shaking. 'And he is. We haven't seen each other for fifty-five years. First impressions can be deceiving. You won't believe what he's capable of.'

Mark looked at me incredulously.

'Give the man some credit.' I said.

They were quiet, not entirely sure what to make of the sudden intrusion. I resisted the urge to leave, follow Hal and ask him what was wrong. I was responsible for these men. We had a job to do.

'Right. Where were we?' I said.

* * *

><p>When I arrived at the office I told Matthew he could take the rest of the day off. 'Enjoy the good weather.' I told him. He was surprised I was in such a good mood, but he didn't protest and left in a hurry, afraid I might change my mind.<p>

I sat down behind my desk, and rubbed my eyes. Hal was alive. Not dead. I had to pinch myself a couple of times before I could accept it was true. So what had happened all those years ago?

I couldn't help but think of the past. I'd neatly stashed those memories away into some remote compartment of my brain, but now they emerged. That happened a lot lately.

We had never been equals. Hal made me, and Hal called the shots. But that was a long time ago. Where had he been hiding all that time? Had he missed me?

The sickening smell of Rachel's decomposing body was back. My hands felt sticky from stroking her hair once more. He'd killed my wife and then he'd made me drink her blood. My hand trembled and I almost dropped my phone when it rang. It was Dewi.

'The club's all ready, Mr Cutler.' He told me.

* * *

><p>I left early. Stoker's was quiet, just like I preferred it. I'd ordered Johnny and Simon to find me a couple of extra security guards. 'No recruiting.' I'd warned them. 'We don't want to wake up Barry just yet.'<p>

I made myself comfortable in the upstairs conference room, and waited, certain that Hal would come back. He took his time, and while I waited I thought of him. Part of me was happy that he was alive. But most of all I was confused. He hadn't died, so why had he left without telling anyone? Without telling me?

I thought back of the days after his disappearance. Wyndam had questioned me for hours on end, convinced that I was the one responsible for his death. Leo the werewolf was never found. After a couple of very uncomfortable days Wyndam had decided I was innocent. 'He hasn't got the guts for this kind of scheming.' He told everyone.

From that moment on they'd looked at me with different eyes. They laughed at me. Cowardly Cutler, lost without his maker. I'd stopped socialising with the other vampires soon after. Had Hal ever thought of what he had done to me?

What kept him so long? I played several games of Diamond Twister on my iPhone, drank a couple of glasses, and played Hangman for a while. I'd prefer to tweet some more about werewolves, but I was afraid Allison might find out. I was getting more irritated by the minute. Hal shouldn't have left without telling me, and what the hell was he thinking, making me wait this long?

I'd had enough. Things were going to be different from now on, I decided. And then I heard him come up the stairs. I'd recognise the sound of those footsteps anywhere. He'd come back. Thank god. 'Funny thing is, I've been thinking about you recently.' I said without looking up.

* * *

><p>He was clean. Had been clean for the past fifty-five years. Amazing. It made me a little envious. But he wasn't as strong as he wanted me to believe. A promise to satisfy his curiosity and a second offer of blood were all it took to make him give in. It was sad, really.<p>

I watched without emotion how his body reacted to the fresh blood. Mark, the bald biker, had provided it. Mark was a fast learner. 'Carry on like this, and you'll have a great future ahead of you.' I'd promised him.

Hal recovered quickly, pulled himself together and stood up straight, looking at me with dark, empty eyes. This was the Hal I remembered. A little blood could do miracles. I wrote the address of the club on one of my business cards. 'Tomorrow evening. Come at eight.' I said, and sat down, without looking at him.

He left without a word. 'Follow him.' I texted Mark, who was waiting downstairs.

* * *

><p>'Where did he go?' I asked Mark when I called him.<p>

'Residential area. Some boarding house. I guess that's where he's crashing. He's still in there. What do you want me to do? I've gotta go to Cardiff, as you asked me.'

'Call Bobby. Let him take over from you. Tell him not to let him out of sight and call me as soon as anything remotely interesting happens. Did you check for a back door?'

'It leads to a fenced garden, full of junk. If he comes out, it'll be by the front door. I've got him covered.'

'Good. Keep up the good work.' I said, and ended the call.

* * *

><p>'Who is she?' I asked Bobby, more than a little annoyed that he'd called me so soon. I had a terrible headache which even a steaming hot bath couldn't cure. It had been a major drawback when Tom visited me and told me he couldn't take part in my plan anymore. Bobby's story better be good.<p>

'No idea. Not one of us, obviously. She's hot, though.' Bobby said. 'He definitely likes her. He's very smooth. That thing he did with the barstool –'

'That's enough, Bobby.' I said and buttoned up my shirt. The blood must have done the trick. But had Hal already given in? I didn't think so. He'd abstained for fifty-five years. It would take more than a single glass of blood to revive the old Hal. 'Stay there.' I told Bobby. 'And text me as soon as anything interesting happens.'

Tom's refusal to be part of my plan had been a disappointment, but it hadn't been much of a surprise. Allison's influence was written all over it. She had completely drawn him in with her preaching of world peace and harmony. I didn't understand. Golda had almost killed her, surely that must have been enough to wake her from her soppy dream?

I put on a green tie. If anything reflected my mood it was that hideous thing. Tom's polite arguments had caught me off guard for a second. I should never have shouted at him. He was trying to do what was right, which was more than I could say of myself. I just wished he wasn't so bloody conscientious. First Hal, then Tom. I had to smooth things over.

* * *

><p>'She's leaving.' Bobby texted me.<p>

I was standing outside my favourite restaurant. 'Follow her and take her to the club.' I improvised. A new plan was developing. Through the window I could see Tom sitting at one of the tables. He was fidgeting with a napkin, not used to his new surroundings.

Things were looking up. I had Tom exactly where I wanted him. He'd even bothered to put on a shirt. I could see he was very uncomfortable in this environment. The obligatory tie increased his anxiety. A little later he apologised for not helping me out with the Old Ones. 'Hey, Tom, it's fine. Really.' I put him at ease.

Allison had gone back to her parents, he said. But he was going to put things right. He was going to educate himself. For a moment there I felt like professor Higgins in My Fair Lady. But then I remembered what was at stake. 'She's going to stick around, is she? She won't hook up with anyone else?' I said casually. Always drop your bombs with care.

His eyes grew big as he stumbled over his words trying to explain Allison wasn't that kind of girl. I told him her parents would adore him. 'What's not to love?' I reassured him. When it was time to order our meals I selected the quail. 'You should try it.' I suggested, but to his credit he chose the ravioli instead.

* * *

><p>'<em>What are we doing here?' I ask. It's the most expensive restaurant in the area. I've passed it several<em>_ times__, but I never imagined I'd be going in one day. _

'_Why? What people usually do in restaurants. Eat.'__ Yorke__ says and inspects the glasses. There are six of them, three pairs in different sizes.__ Yorke__ raises his hand and a waiter approaches. _

'_How can I help you, sir?' _

'_This glass is dirty.'__ Yorke__ says._

'_I'm very sorry, sir. I'll get you a new one instantly.' The waiter takes the glass, which looks fine to me, and leaves.__ Yorke__ smiles. He picks up the menu, and reads it. He looks up from the card and says: 'I'll have the quail. You should too.' I nod. I've never had quail before. 'Excellent. You chose the wine.'_

_I look at the card and swallow. None of the names are familiar. Some I've heard of, but never tasted. 'Red, of course.'__ Yorke__ says. That doesn't help much. The menu is in French. My knowledge of the culinary aspects of the language is restricted to __'vin__ rouge' and __'vin blanc__'. But the menu doesn't say so. I can feel__ Yorke's__ gaze and decide to take a chance. I'm glad there are numbers. I order number seventeen._

'_Excellent choice, sir.' The waiter comments. I take a deep breath, relieved. _

'_Well, well.'__ Yorke__ says, 'Who'd have thought you're a__ connoisseur__?' There's a mocking little smile in the corner of his mouth. It's as if I've just passed a test. With sheer luck._

_The waiter comes back with the wine, uncorks the bottle and pours some in one of the glasses. He then looks at me expectantly. Oh. He wants me to taste? Carefully I pick up the glass and take a small sip. I let it roll in my mouth for a bit, and swallow. 'Fine.' I say. I 'm so aware of__ Yorke's__ stare that I haven't tasted the wine at all. The waiter raises his eyebrows.__ Yorke__ nods, and the waiter leaves, visibly relieved._

'_Don't worry.'__ Yorke__ says. 'The only reason they're all staring is because they are bored. Just ignore them.' I look around at the other guests, but I don't see anyone looking at me. It makes me feel uncomfortable anyway._

_I try not to stare at__ Yorke__, but all I can think of is how completely at ease he is in this posh environment. I don't think he's ever felt__ self-conscious__, and I envy him. I don't belong here, and it shows. They are too polite to openly acknowledge it, but they all know. But not__ Yorke__. He blends in perfectly._

_He's still not told me why we are here. I don't ask again. The meals arrive. Large white plates with what looks like a miniature chicken in the middle. A tiny skeleton with barely any flesh. It looks anything but__ appetising__ and I wonder how I'm supposed to eat it. _

'_Aren't you hungry?'__ Yorke__ asks, and raises his glass. 'Cheers.' _

_I look at his plate. He's literally attacked his food, crunching the little bones between his jaws. I've only picked at mine, and I've drunk rather too much wine. Good wine. I'm a bit tipsy. __'Mr Yorke__, I'm sorry about the other day.' I say, referring to what happened in my garage. 'I just can't. She's my wife.'_

_He frowns, and wipes his mouth with his napkin. 'Hey, Nick, that's fine.' He says, and__ smiles. 'You're__ such a sweet couple.'_

* * *

><p>'Are you sure?' I said. I'd just asked Tom if he wanted some coffee and brandy to conclude our meal, but he'd refused.<p>

'No, thank you, Mr Cutler – Nick. I've got to ba - I mean be somewhere. But thanks very much for all of this.' He said and shook my hand vigorously.

I didn't mind. My work here was done, and I had other things to attend to. Like Hal's girl. 'Got her.' Bobby had texted me an hour ago. 'See you soon.' I said to Tom, and watched him leave.


	4. Chapter 4

The club was covered in darkness. Good. I went in through a back door. 'Down here, Mr Cutler.' Bobby shouted when he heard me come in. He had gagged the girl and tied her to a chair. She looked frightened, but above all very cross.

'What's her name?' I asked Bobby.

'Alexandra.' He said, and handed me her ID.

'Remove the tape.'

'Are you sure?' Bobby said.

'Promise you won't scream.' I said to the girl. She nodded.

Bobby removed the tape from her face, and she spat on the floor and said: 'Alex, Not Alexandra. Who are you and what the hell do you think you're doing?'

'I've just had dinner.' I said, and looked at her. Dark hair and dark angry eyes. Good cheekbones. A leather coat over a green dress. A strong Scottish accent. Thankfully there was nothing about her that reminded me in the least of Rachel. Hal's girl, I thought. His weakness. He's changed. Why had he let her walk away just like that?

'Let me go.' She said.

'I'm afraid that's not possible.' I replied. I nodded to Bobby, and he left.

'Why?' she asked and fumbled to free her arms. It didn't help.

'Because of Hal.' I said, and took off my tie.

She frowned. 'What about him? Do you know him?' She fumbled some more.

'It's no use. You'll only hurt yourself.' I opened the top button of my shirt. Better, much better.

'My dad and brothers will be looking for me. You won't get away with this.' She said.

'Yeah, right. I doubt that.' I was in a foul mood. The chances of Tom coming round were good, but there was so little time. And this Hal business kept nagging me. Maybe I should just let her go. She was a distraction.

'I bet this is the only way you can pull a girl.' She said. Her eyes spat fire. She was really angry now. Interesting. I'd have thought she'd be scared. 'Loser!' she said.

'Everything alright, Mr Cutler?' I heard Bobby say. He was standing in the doorway. Nosy bastard.

'Everything's fine, Bobby.' I said, trying to remain calm. From the corner of my eye I saw Alex wriggle again. Her hand behind her back was feeling for something. Her phone.

In two steps I was with her, and snatched her phone from her. She tried to kick me, but I was too fast for her. 'Looks like you forgot something, Bobby.' I said. Bobby sighed and left again.

Alex looked upset now. 'Bastard.' She hissed.

I smiled and looked at the screen. No new messages. I switched the phone off and put it in my jacket pocket.

'He's a bit incompetent, that man of yours. Looks like you lack people skills.' Alex tried something new. Contempt. Little did she know that no words would suffice to save her now. I'd just made up my mind. Something in her way of speaking reminded me of Hal. And that made me furious. Fifty five years, I thought. Without a single goodbye. And now this.

My eyes must have blackened, cause she started to scream. I bared my fangs and almost bit myself. And then my phone rang. 'Mr Cutler? Nick? It's Tom. I'm in.' Tom McNair said in my ear.

'Saved by the bell.' I said to Alex, and left the basement. Bobby came hurrying back. 'What was all that about, Mr Cutler?' 'She's screaming, can't you hear that? Make it stop.' I told him and decided she could wait.

* * *

><p>I put on my coat and drove to Stoker's. I looked out over the quiet sea, watching for a sign. There was nothing on the horizon. No ships. But I knew they were coming. Not long now. I thought about what I had told Hal. To be honest I didn't really care about Brazil. Far too warm for my liking. No, it was the recognition I craved. To become a history maker, just like Hal had promised me, all those years ago.<p>

I thought of all the museums I'd visited and the books I'd read in the course of my life. I could name them all. British kings, Roman emperors and American presidents. I thought of Caesar, Nero, Nelson, Wellington and Charles II. Richard Lionheart, John F. Kennedy, Barack Obama and Tony Blair. Well, maybe not Tony Blair. I allowed my mind to wander, and whispered the names of the famous. William Shakespeare, Albert Einstein, Marco Polo, Bill Gates.

I'd promised Tom I'd call him back, and now I did, still looking at the black water. 'Are you sure? You seemed pretty adamant this morning.' I said.

'I am. You were right Mr Cutler. The Old Ones are dangerous.'

Did I imagine it, or did he sound a little sad? 'Did anything happen, Tom?' I inquired.

He was silent for a bit. 'Nothing new, really. I just wish Allison was right.' So something had happened? I should have had him followed too.

'Don't worry.' I said. 'One more day and it will all be over. The world will be saved. By you. That's something to be proud of, I should think. I know this decision hasn't been easy for you, Tom.'

'D'you think so?' he asked, still a little uncertain.

'Absolutely. Now you get a good night's sleep before your big day.'

He thanked me. I'd just signed his bloody death warrant and he was grateful. I ended the call. The minute I did it started ringing again. It was Bobby.

'Mr Cutler, we've got a bit of a problem. That Dewi kid's here and he followed me downstairs.'

'He what?'

'I've got it under control. I locked him in the freezer.' Bobby said. 'What do you want me to do about him?'

'Nothing. I'll be right there. And make sure the doors are locked properly this time.' I say, trying hard to sound calm.

* * *

><p>Dewi's lips were blue when I released him. His teeth were chattering. 'What's happening Mr Cutler?' he asked. He seemed ridiculously pleased to see me.<p>

'Sorry about this. There's been a bit of a misunderstanding. Bobby didn't know it was you.' I smiled and invited him to sit down. 'Do you want some coffee, to get warm again?'

He shrugged. 'I'm never warm these days, you know. I don't suppose you've got something stronger?'

'What do you think? This is a nightclub after all.'

Now he started smiling. Good. I poured him a glass of Havana Club rum. He had to cough after his first sip. 'Better?' I asked.

'Much better.' He beamed. 'Now can you please tell me why there's someone in my basement, I mean, down there? To be honest it gives me the creeps. Reminds me of my dad, see? That Bobby guy says there's nothing I should worry about, but it's not normal, is it?'

I gave him another glass of rum. 'That must have been quite a shock, I can understand that. But he's right - you shouldn't worry. That woman down there is very dangerous. We should count ourselves lucky that Bobby caught her.'

'Dangerous?' he asked. 'Like that Golda woman? She doesn't look dangerous. She does look angry, though.'

That was funny. 'Exactly. Now the rumours of the arrival of the Old Ones are attracting all kinds of unsavoury people.' I explained.

He bought my story. 'I see. So what are you going to do about it? What if another one comes and does some actual harm? What about my mum?'

I closed the bottle. 'We've got protection. But it would be smart if you were to go home to look after you mum. Do you think you can do that?'

He nodded, and took something from the bag he was carrying. Two wooden stakes. 'See?' he said proudly.

'You better put those away, Dewi.' I advised him. 'Bobby will go berserk if he spots them.'

'Oh, but I'd never hurt him, Mr Cutler. After all, a friend of yours is a friend of mine.' Dewi said.

* * *

><p>Once he had left I went downstairs to see if everything was alright. It was. Alex was sitting very still now, looking at the floor. She was getting tired. But when she looked up I could see she hadn't given up completely. It was a close call, though. I removed the tape and she flinched. Upstairs Bobby had turned on some loud music. I could feel the bass vibrating. 'Feel free to shout.' I invited her. 'Not that it will do you any good.'<p>

There were mascara smudges under her eyes and on her cheeks. Had she been crying?

'Who are you and what do you want from me?' She asked once more, a bit hoarse.

'You wouldn't understand.'

'Try me.' She said. Some of her fighting spirit was back. It didn't last long.

'I'm going to have to kill you. I've got a score to settle.'

She didn't look surprised. 'Why me?' she said. 'Why anyway?'

'Because of Hal. But not now. I'll see you in the morning. I'll ask Bobby to help you get more comfortable here. It's your last night after all. Sorry for that, but someone always suffers, no matter what. That's the way of the world.' I said, avoided to look her in the eyes, and left.

I felt something resembling regret when I walked home. Not because she was going to die. But she would have made an interesting recruit. Strangely enough I was sorry for Hal. His determination to stop killing and feeding was noble, if not a little too late. I realised he wanted to be like me, the way I had been before. But what he didn't understand was that I would never allow that to happen. Not while his actions could never save me. He'd made me a promise and I'd make sure he would keep it. No one else did. I was going to be a history maker, with or without his help. I'd show him.

* * *

><p>I couldn't sleep that night. After an hour of tossing and turning I got up and heated a mug of cocoa in the microwave. I turned on the telly and watched part of a documentary on English Renaissance playwrights. But my mind wandered. I put on a bathrobe and went downstairs. I might just as well get some work done. But I was too excited to concentrate. When I put a file back into my file cabinet some papers fell from another file.<p>

Tom's thank you note and the messages Regus had sent me. I was about to put them back in, when I saw the code on the postcard again. CM1592HF. Wait a second. CM – Christopher Marlowe? I googled him and found what I was looking for. In 1592 he had written The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus. That must be it. I even owned a copy of the play. I walked to my bookcase and found it on the top shelf. I'd seen a performance once, with Rachel. The book was dusty and hadn't been read for a long time. I flicked through the book and found HF.

_"Consummatum est; this bill is ended,_  
><em>And Faustus hath bequeath'd his soul to Lucifer.<em>  
><em>But what is this inscription on mine arm?<em>  
><em>Homo, fuge: whither should I fly?<em>  
><em>If unto God, he'll throw me down to hell.<em>  
><em>My senses are deceiv'd; here's nothing writ:—<em>  
><em>O, yes, I see it plain; even here is writ,<em>  
><em>Homo, fuge: yet shall not Faustus fly."<em>

Homo fuge. Man, flee. I remembered most of the story, and it made me shiver. What was Regus trying to tell me? Was he warning me?

Something was stuck between the next pages. A photograph. I took it out and looked at the fading black and white image of a smiling Rachel. She'd tried to look serious when her picture was taken, but had failed miserably. The blouse and skirt she was wearing looked very old-fashioned now, as did her movie star curls. She'd paid a fortune to that hairdresser. Told me it was important to make a good impression.

I put the picture on my desk, image downwards. I thought I'd forgotten the sound of her voice. But now I could hear her whisper in my ear. Warm, friendly and very, very stubborn. Challenging. 'So you cracked the puzzle? I knew you would.'

Go away, I thought. You can't do this to me. I put the photo in a desk drawer, but I could still hear her. Teasing me, asking me why I'd left her. But I hadn't. Hal had separated us. As I got up I accidentally spilled the remainder of my cocoa.

* * *

><p><em>I sit behind my desk trying to make sense of the papers in front of me, but the letters keep swimming. I rub my eyes. Rachel's next to me. One hand massages my neck, the other ruffles my hair. I can feel the warmth of her body against mine. So warm. I can feel she's not wearing anything under her expensive new dressing gown. She hasn't asked why all of a sudden I can afford expensive clothes. But she must have noticed. <em>

_Her fingers glide from my hair to my ear. They fondle my earlobe. 'You look tired.' She whispers in my ear. Her breath is hot and moist. She's so close now I can hear her heart beat. God, she's so much alive. _

_Gently I push her away. It takes all my willpower not to hurt her. 'I'm sorry. I have to finish this. Big case tomorrow.' I lie. _

_She sighs, her disappointment obvious. 'Alright. You know, sometimes I wish you'd have a less demanding job.' A last ruffle of my hair and she's gone._

_I know her routine. She'll brush her teeth and then she'll sit down in front of the bedroom mirror and brush her hair. Not so long ago I would have helped her. Not anymore. I clench my fists and push away the papers. I'm restless and angry and oh so tired. And I'm hungry, but it's not a normal hunger._

_I walk into the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. I'm no longer there, I think. At that very moment our new telephone starts ringing. I hesitate, walk downstairs and answer it. _

'_Cutler.' It's__ Yorke__. I'll never forget that voice. Polite, polished and petrifying. _

'_Yes?' I say cautiously. _

'_I thought maybe you'd like to come over for a drink, meet the lads, that kind of thing.' _

_I swallow. 'It's half past twelve.'_

'_So it is. What's it to be, Cutler?' I can hear laughter in the background. _

'_Is everything alright?' I hear Rachel say. She's standing at the top of the stairs. _

_I cover the mouthpiece of the telephone with my hand. 'Fine. It's just work. Nothing to worry about. I might have to go out, though.' She nods and yawns. I wait until she's out of sight. _

'_Well, well, well. And how is__ Mrs__ Cutler today?'__ Yorke__ says. 'What about that drink?' _

'_I'm on my way.' I mutter._

* * *

><p>When the sun came up I went back to the club. Alex was sleeping on the mattress Bobby had provided, clearly exhausted from all that had happened to her. A handcuff on one of her wrists was linked to a lead pipe. 'Go home and get some sleep.' I ordered Bobby.<p>

I made some strong coffee, and brought a cup for the girl. She was awake now, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. The second she saw me she started trembling. 'No, it's not a bad dream.' I told her. 'Sorry.' I offered her the cup. 'Promise you won't do anything.'

She nodded, took the cup and drank from it.

'Careful, it's hot.' I warned her.

She looked at me, and started to laugh hysterically. Her entire body shook. 'Thank you for being so concerned. It's really touching, considering that you're going to kill me.' She said, anger and despair in her eyes.

'How did you and Hal meet?' I asked, curious.

'It's none of your business.' She said.

'Fine. I was just asking. You know, it might actually help if you give me some information.' I told her.

'Would it? You mean you won't kill me if I tell you?' she challenged me.

'No. I can't do that. But I could tell you why I have to do this. I owe you that much. You know what? I'll tell you anyway.' I decided, sat down on an empty crate and started telling her all there was to know about my master plan.

* * *

><p>Everybody's got a hungry heart. Bruce Springsteen was right. Now that I was so close to fulfilling my dreams I became impatient. I had killed Hal's girl. The circle was almost round. How would he react? Would he come back to me, or would he try and revenge her death? I didn't think revenge was very likely. Besides, I wasn't scared. I had protection now.<p>

I inspected the club. Everything was ready. Next I checked the cameras to made sure there'd be recordings of everything that would happen here. Not long now. I called Dewi and asked him to look out for the arrival of the Old Ones. He was very eager.

'Make sure they don't see you. It's crucial that I'm the one who welcomes them.' I told him.

'Okay, Mr Cutler.' He said.

'How's your mum?' I asked.

'She's fine, really. She was very impressed when I offered to do her shopping. And she says thanks for the sherry. She's dead keen on sherry, however did you know that? I've put another lock on the door. Dead easy if you read the manual. Have you ever changed a lock, Mr Cutler? I've told mum that on no account is she to invite in anyone she doesn't know, not even if they say they're friends of mine. She says I'm overprotective. I just can't get her to properly assess the situation.'

'Don't worry, she'll come round, Dewi.' I said, and ended the call. Our kind had treated him like shit, correction, I had treated him like shit, and now he couldn't be happier doing whatever I told him to do.

Humans were weak, I thought. Even a strong girl like Alex had been weak in the end. I could still taste her blood. The first fresh blood since I'd recruited my unit. Was this what Hal had been looking for - longing for? Would he pass the test? I'd confided in Mark, and we'd made a bet.

'If he is who he is he'll know.' Mark thought. I wasn't so sure. After all Rachel and I had been very close and I hadn't suspected anything at the time. I cringed when I thought of that night. I could still hear the laughter.

When Rachel died I thought the world had ended. But it hadn't. I contemplated suicide, but they wouldn't let me. I didn't get the chance. I'd sworn to myself I'd have nothing more to do with Yorke. But he didn't care. Wherever I went he was. Always watching me, in his eyes that weird mix of concern and contempt. I had been desperate. The need for blood was too strong. I was an addict now and every minute I had to spend in the company of humans and the deafening sound of their heartbeats was sheer torture. I had difficulty concentrating.

I made a fool of myself in court and I insulted my neighbour Jean, who'd tried to comfort me when the news of Rachel's death became public. My superior gave me a warning and suggested I take some unpaid leave. I threatened to leave and take the Yorke file with me. That evening I killed Rachel's cat. Its blood made me very ill and didn't satisfy the hunger. I buried the dead cat in the back garden. That same evening Hal Yorke visited me, and I gave in to my wife's murderer.

* * *

><p>I paid a visit to Martin Finbar to collect my Tom Ford suit. 'Special occasion, Cutler?' he asked.<p>

'I'm meeting an old friend.' I replied, and tried on the suit.

'Do you like it? Don't you think those sleeves are a little too short?' Finbar said.

'No, it's fine. I'm planning on wearing it tonight. Besides, I prefer to have my hands free.' I smiled.

'Good. Let me get you a matching shirt.' He said, and took a pristine white shirt from one of the wooden shelves.

* * *

><p>'He's here.' Mark informed me.<p>

A minute later Hal entered the empty club. He was still wearing that horrible coat. He looked defeated. You don't even make an effort, I thought and welcomed him. I'm no longer scared of him, I realised as I watched him struggle with his second glass of blood in fifty five years. His fingers were trembling with despair as he licked off the last drops. I smiled, and set out the details of my master plan.

I'd had a few glasses myself to give myself courage, and now I felt invincible, and very much in charge. Proudly I told him about my spectacular, high on anticipation. But Hal wasn't impressed. He called it insane.

I had half expected this, so I tried not to let the disappointment get to me, and touched his shoulder. He was shaking like a junkie going Cold Turkey. 'You were there to help me through it, and now I'm going to return the favour.' I promised him, and gently led him to the basement. The tables were turned now.

* * *

><p>They were all staring at me as I came out and locked the door. 'What?' I demanded. I felt sick and it wasn't the decomposing of Alex's body that had caused it.<p>

Mark was the only one brave enough to answer. 'Nothing, Mr Cutler. I owe you.' I didn't understand, and it must have showed, because he continued: 'The bet? He clearly didn't know it was her blood, so you won.' He took out his wallet.

'Not now, Mark.' I said. 'Come on guys, you've got work to do. I'll be with you in a sec.'

They walked up the stairs and left me alone. I was seriously shaken. 'I will not let you take their world.' Hal had said. With those words he'd broken his promise and abandoned me. Not fifty five years ago – that didn't count – but here and now. I held on to the wall and took a deep breath. So Hal didn't want to help me? Fine. I'd manage on my own. Just as I had in the past fifty five years. He disgusted me. He'd made me into the creature I was today, and now he wanted to take all that was left away from me? Wasn't it a bit late to feel sorry about the thousands of people he had killed?

The concrete wall felt cool against my back. Easy, I told myself. This is not a setback. You knew he was a changed man. All of this was to be expected. I looked at my watch, and tried to ignore Hal's shouting. It sounded muffled behind the door. Time to pick up Tom. I'd left my car at home because I didn't want people to see it here. I still had the keys to Fergus's police van. That would do nicely.

I parked the van next to the house and rang the doorbell. The place looked like a boarding house. A sign that said Honolulu Heights and could do with a lick of fresh paint was creaking in the wind. So the owner thought it was a good idea to create his or her private Hawaii in dreary Barry? It was sad, really.

Tom opened the door. He didn't ask me in, which was fine cause I didn't have much time. He stepped outside and looked at the police van. 'I borrowed it. My car's at the garage for the annual MOT.' I explained.

'Oh, right.' Tom said.

* * *

><p>Mark frowned when he saw Tom. Of course. He'd never met a werewolf before, and he must have expected something different. 'It's too hot in here.' I told Simon. 'Surely this place must have air conditioning?' I was sweating. There was too much at stake.<p>

It had all seemed easy enough. Think of a good plan and stick to it. But then Hal had risen from his grave. Correction, from Southend-on-Sea. I'd done a little digging. And what I'd found had surprised me. He'd been living in a barber shop owned by a man named Leo. Like in Leo the werewolf. The shop was deserted now. Leo had been old and ill, the neighbours had told my spies. One day he left, and they'd never heard from him again. And yes, there had been a young man living there. Quiet type, didn't go out much. They thought he suffered from agoraphobia. And no, he didn't work in the shop. He must have been a lodger. He had left as well.

Lodger, I thought. Something nagged me. Hold on. That's what Bobby had said about Hal. He was living in a boarding house. Now why did that ring a bell? I looked at Tom and I remembered. Tom was living in a boarding house too. So what if Tom's and Hal's boarding houses were one and the same? Barry was a small place after all.

But if Tom and Hal were housemates, did that mean Tom had told Hal about me? Probably not. Hal had looked surprised when I told him I'd already found a werewolf. But then he'd asked me the wolf's name and said 'Of course.' When I informed him. What if it was just an act and he had known all along? What if Tom and Hal were conspiring against me? Oh god. A sudden wave of dizziness made me stumble.

'Are you alright, Mr Cutler – Nick?' Tom asked and patted me on the back. It took all of my willpower not to show my fangs. I felt trapped in a slapstick movie. But Tom looked genuinely concerned. I stood up, straightened my suit and looked at him. He was no conspirator. He was a child. Loyal and honest. I didn't think he even knew how to lie.

I opened the door to the small storage room I'd selected because it could be locked from the outside. Suddenly Tom looked frightened. 'You're going to make your dad so proud.' I told him. 'And take it from me, there should be no better feeling than that.' I meant what I said, even though I wasn't talking about McNair or my own dad – a man I only remembered from photos and my mum's stories.

I stared at Tom. His honesty and righteousness was disarming. I was a bit jealous. Tom sat down and I squeezed his shoulder. I thought of the people who had lost this son and then I thought of my own son. He had never been born, but had died with Rachel. I thought of what could have been. I smiled at Tom and locked the door. Don't worry, I'll take care of you, I thought.

'Are you alright Mr Cutler? You look –' Simon ended his sentence before he'd finished it. He must have seen my reaction.

'Everything's under control.' I said. 'Now make sure all the doors I told you about are locked properly.' What the hell was happening to me?

* * *

><p>Not long now. With a glass of whiskey in my hand I watched the dancing crowd from the upper level of the club. Everything was ready and I started to relax. Any minute now it would be full moon.<p>

'He's trying to get out.' Simon had told me half an hour ago. 'Says he can smell they're not vampires and that it's all a mistake.'

'He'll come round.' I'd assured him. Poor Tom. 'Turn up the volume, if necessary.'

They were all very young. Handsome boys and pretty, skinny girls. Lots of girls. That was Mark's doing. He acted as bouncer tonight.

At first I didn't see him. There were so many people. But his ugly coat betrayed him. Hal. He must have escaped from the basement. How was that even possible?

The guests didn't take much notice of him and kept on dancing. He reached the DJ, shouted something and made wild gestures with his hands. His words drowned in the beat of the music. The DJ shook his head and Hal gestured some more.

He'll ruin everything, I realised and took out my phone. Ten past twelve. Tom's transformation would be complete. I called Simon. 'Do it. Now.' I ordered him.

* * *

><p>There he was, my wolf, standing upright in the strobe light, like a proud King Kong. I almost expected him to beat his chest. I'd seen him transform, but that was while he was locked in a shed. This was different. On the middle of the dance floor he looked ten times more terrifying. Camera's flashed, and people came closer, eager to watch the freak. Far too curious to feel justified fear. Bloody fools.<p>

Hal thought so too. Suddenly he started to shout. 'Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!' It broke their trance. They panicked and fled. But they wouldn't get far. Patiently I waited, way out of the wolf's reach. He growled, ready for the attack. So much for your conscience Tom, I thought.

Just as I wondered where half of the guests had disappeared to, the wolf noticed Hal. Their eyes locked, and Hal didn't move. I cursed him. The guests were getting away. For my plan to succeed I needed dozens of fatalities, not one dead vampire or werewolf.

I waited for the kill. I did not want this. Either way one of them would die. I closed my eyes, and opened them again. I had to see what would happen. And then the wolf looked up and noticed me. He bared his teeth in anger, while Hal made good use of the distraction to get way from him. I did the same. You were right, Regus, I thought, and ran to the upstairs office, which could be locked from the inside.

* * *

><p>Not a bad dream, I thought as I woke up. I'd failed. I wanted to lie down again, pull the duvet over my head and fall asleep again. But I couldn't. There was loud banging on my door. The doorbell rang repeatedly. I opened a window and looked down. It was Dewi, and he looked nervous. 'I'll be right there.' I said.<p>

'What is it, Dewi?' I asked.

'The O-Old Ones, Mr Cutler.' He said, out of breath. Had he been running? 'They're already here. I'm so very sorry, but I had to take my mum to hospital last night. Food poisoning. I'm afraid I forgot all about Stoker's. I'm really sorry, Mr Cutler, I am.'

Oh my god. My heart sank. 'When?' I asked. 'When exactly did they arrive?'

'Somewhere last night. They look pretty settled already, so I guess they must have been there for quite a while. I think it's best if you go and great them as soon as possible.'

Stay calm, I told myself. All's not lost. I've got something to show them. 'And I will, Dewi. Who else knows about this?'

'No one. I told absolutely no one. They are a strange lot, by the way. I don't want to sound disrespectful, but they're dressed very old-fashioned and all. And they've got this Rambo guy. Do you want me to show you?'

I sighed. 'Dewi, I know where Stoker's is, remember?' I looked at my watch. One fifteen PM. Had I slept all that time? They must be here for at least twelve hours. I doubted they would appreciate the lack of a proper welcome. But I would make it up to them. 'Thanks for telling me this, Dewi. I won't forget this.' I said.

'Can I have some blood?' he asked.

I'd left my suit in the bathroom, using the hot water steam to iron out the creases. I dressed carefully. The Old Ones were not to be thwarted. Next I called Matthew. 'Where the hell are you?' I asked him, angry I overslept because of his absence.

'Excuse me?' he said. 'You fired me yesterday, remember?' he said.

Had I? I didn't remember.

'Last night, at a quarter to one? My wife wasn't pleased you woke us up. But don't worry, I was going to leave anyway.' He sounded bitter. 'I'm sick of being bullied around, it's a dead end job, and frankly, this business of yours is at a dead end too. Goodbye, Mr Cutler.' He ended the call.

Everything was falling apart. 'I think you better go visit them.' Dewi said from the kitchen. He sat at the kitchen table, two bottles before him, one empty, one full, his mouth red with blood. 'Don't worry. They'll appreciate all your doing for them.' He said, held up the second bottle in a strange salute, and drank from it.

* * *

><p>Tom didn't know it, but I'd seen him, hidden behind a partition. My eyesight was excellent and I'd recognise those eyes anywhere. That brute Milo must have seen him too, even though he didn't mention it. So the Old Ones had a pet wolf? They didn't exactly match my expectations. Their sense of dress was awful, they looked as if they were permanently stuck in a different era and they had no sense of humour. What they did have was the third part of the scroll, and Mr Snow, their leader.<p>

Snow was the darkest soul I'd ever met. Even though his skin was cracking and his fangs were yellow, he still breathed power. He's not going to give me Brazil, was the first thing that occurred to me after he'd started questioning me. He tried to ridicule me, and when that didn't work he humiliated me.

There was no news of the events at the nightclub. I'd planned to present them the world, but now I was standing here empty-handed. I didn't understand. Surely, my spectacular hadn't been as spectacular as I'd hoped, because of Hal's intervention, but I had personally uploaded plenty of footage of the panic in the club when transformed Tom appeared. I tried every available television channel, but there was nothing.

Snow reeked, of decay and lack of personal hygiene. He grabbed my face with his pasty fingers and squeezed. I'd never felt more disgusted in my life. 'I've already forgotten your name.' he said, and I fled, cursing him and his friends. If these were the Old Ones, why had I even bothered? I ran outside and threw up. My vomit was dark red from all the blood I'd drunk since yesterday.

In the distance I could see Tom. There were two people with him. Was Hal one of them? I didn't know. Next Milo came out and ran past me without noticing me. He hadn't betrayed Tom, and neither had I. Milo must have acted out of loyalty to his own species. I'd wanted to tell, but had found I was unable to sell Tom to the Old Ones. He had done nothing wrong. Was I going soft in my eighties?

I took a small bottle of blood from my pocket and drank it. Alex's blood. Not as fresh as the day before, but tolerable. It made me feel better instantly. Good, because I needed the strength. All was not lost. Certainly, the Old Ones had proved to be a bitter disappointment. But I could still become a history maker. The war child must live for the vampires to survive, Snow had said. Not die. The Saviour, I thought. I have to kill that baby. They don't know where she is, but I do. If killing her is what it takes to destroy the Old Ones, so be it. I'd make them regret the way they treated me. I took out a handkerchief, cleaned my face with it and threw the stained rag away.

I went back to my office and logged into my YouTube account. The video's I'd uploaded late last night were gone. All of them. I didn't understand. I tried the other video sites I'd used, but found no trace whatsoever of my recent activities. And I couldn't access my Twitter account. What was happening and who was responsible? The Old Ones? No, that couldn't be. I doubted that old fashioned bunch even knew of the existence of social media. When I set about re-uploading the files I found that I must have wiped them from my hard disk. How did that happen?

* * *

><p>First I had to make sure Tom and Hal weren't at home. There was a good chance I'd find Tom in the café where he worked. I didn't see any customers, when I arrived there, but the lights were on and the sign on the door said 'Open'. The place was empty, but I could hear music. Someone was there.<p>

I had to be careful – I didn't want Tom to see me. By now he would be fully aware of my betrayal. I didn't look forward to being the subject of his wrath. I walked round the corner to the back door. I heard voices. Tom and Hal. I froze. What was Hal doing here?

'What did you think it was for? My swimming pool?' I heard Tom say. The back door opened and he stepped outside. I wanted to hide, but he'd already seen me. His eyes grew big. Surprise and anger showed on his face. I expected him to come after me, but he didn't. instead he threw the rubbish he was carrying in one of the bins and scratched his head, still looking at me.

I held out my hands, even though it wouldn't help me to defend myself. I'd seen what Tom was capable of. Yesterday Tom thought I was his friend. It felt like years ago.

'I'm coming.' He shouted to Hal, his eyes still on me. What's it going to be, I thought nervously. He wiped his hands on his apron. Slowly and carefully. Run, my instincts screamed. But I couldn't move. And then Tom walked towards me and stopped. He was standing very close. This is it, I thought. But he didn't become furious, as he had every right to be, but instead looked sad and puzzled. It's over, I thought. Everything I've worked so hard for.

'I'm sorry.' I said, and I meant it. He didn't flinch.

'Sorry your plan didn't work out, or sorry you tried to make me kill all those innocent people? They were not vampires.' He said.

I nodded.

'Well, which is it?' he asked.

'I'm really sorry, Tom. Sorry I betrayed your trust. Your – friendship.' I said and to my own surprise realised that I meant every word of it. No lie this time, I was genuinely sorry.

'Yeah, well, I'm sorry too.' He said. 'Sorry I didn't kill you when I had the chance.' His shoulders drooped. He was a child once more. Sad and disappointed.

'Tom –' I said, but he shook his head.

'You don't want me to change my mind, do you?'

'Tom, are you alright?' I heard Hal call. Oh god.

'Coming, Hal.' Tom said and walked to the door. 'Have we still got some of that arsenic? There's a rat here. We've had a bit of an infestation.' He said and walked inside, slamming the door behind him.

I was shaking. Quickly I walked away, scared that Hal might find out I was there. But he didn't come after me, so maybe Tom hadn't told him. A disappointment and a failure. Is that what I had become? But I'd show the Old Ones they'd underestimated me. I would not let them take Tom's world.

* * *

><p>It was only a short walk to the house. I looked at the ridiculous sign and rang the doorbell. No one answered, but there was a light on inside and I could hear voices. Women. No crying baby this time. I knocked. Something moved behind the blinds of the bay window.<p>

I kept banging on the door. It was no use. They weren't going to let me in, so I had to find another way in. I rammed my shoulder against the lock. It hurt. Luckily the door wasn't very strong. I had to try another three times before the lock broke and the door opened. I rubbed my hurt shoulder. Now what? 'Ask me in!' I called out, cursing myself for not asking Tom to invite me in the other night. 'Ask me in!' I shouted.

I was standing on the threshold when someone appeared in the doorway. Alex. Hal's girl. A ghost. 'Hey, didn't I kill you?' I said, hoping for a miracle. She only had to say the word. Come in. But she didn't. Instead she started talking very fast and agitated. I could see she was dead nervous. 'Ask me in.' I repeated softly, but she wouldn't.

Instead she disappeared into what must be the living room. So this was the place where Tom lived? Where Hal lived? It looked shabby. Not up to Hal's usual standards. Right. I had to get to that baby. Carefully I stepped forward. Maybe it was just a myth, I thought. And then I burned my fingers. I hurt like I had never hurt before. My hands were on fire. My skin blackened and the soft tissue melted.

I'd burnt my arm once. I still had the scar, even though it had faded a bit. I had been four years old at the time, begging for my mum's attention. Somehow she had dropped the chip pan and some of the hot oil had splashed on my arm. The doctor told me I had been lucky. I didn't understand. Why did he say that when he could see I was in agony? I thought I'd forgotten the pain. But here it was, licking my fingers. I pulled them back and they cooled a little. So the legend was true after all? Vampires can't come in unless they're invited.

I should have asked Tom yesterday. He would probably have killed me after I'd killed the baby. But maybe we could have worked out another way to end all this. I could see them both now. Two ghosts, Alex and a girl I had seen during the fight at Stoker's. George and Mitchell's ghost? So Tom had two a supernatural housemates, not counting Alex? A werewolf, a vampire and a ghost living together. A new supernatural trinity.

What was I going to do? The ghosts looked at me both expectantly and frightened. Don't worry, I wanted to say, I'm on your side. I've fled from the vampires. Regus was right. But my throat was dry and I had difficulty speaking. Never mind. They wouldn't believe me anyway. Especially now Alex had identified me as her killer.

I have to do this, I thought. Be a history maker. Not the kind that Hal promised me I'd be. I took a deep breath and crossed the invisible barrier. It hurt more that I'd ever thought possible. And then I heard her voice. 'You can do this, Nick.' Soft and patient. Rachel. 'But are you sure?' she asked. 'Are you absolutely sure this is the right thing to do – killing an innocent baby?'

It took me ages to get there. At one point I fell down and had to crawl on all fours. I could smell smoke and burning, boiling, melting flesh. My hands were an unrecognisable mass of raw meat. This is how it ends, I thought, and panicked for a second. But then I heard Rachel again. 'Don't give up, Nick. Not long now.' Tears streamed down my burnt and mutilated face. My eyesight was blurry. I saw an incredibly blue ocean and a white beach. Palm trees. I thought I was hallucinating.

They just stood there and watched as I approached the baby, slowly and painfully. She was so small. I took out the knife. I was not going to kill her with my fangs. She gurgled. Eve, her name's Eve, I remembered George's dying words. 'Eve means life.' Rachel was back. 'And Rachel stands for innocence.'

The knife almost slipped from my hand. I looked at the two ghosts. 'I tried to help, but you wouldn't even let me explain.' I said to them. What was left of my fingers was numb now. I had difficulty holding the knife. Baby Eve blew a bubble of spittle. She burped and moved her tiny hands and feet excitedly. So alive. I didn't want to kill her, really. But I had to. With my last strength I raised the knife.

* * *

><p>'I didn't think vampires would get a door.' I said.<p>

'Of course they do. Remember when Hal Yorke killed you and then snatched you away from death's door?' Rachel said.

I nodded.

'It's been waiting for you ever since.'

**The End?**

_Wild Wolves, always stare me out  
>I'm not running<br>I'm not running away_

_And my soul is a dark place  
>But I know your love<br>I know your love_

_And my soul is a lonely one_  
><em>And I'm not alone<em>  
><em>I'm not alone<em>

_Wild Wolves, always stare me out  
>I'm not running<br>I'm not running away_

_(Wild Wolves, Athlete)_


End file.
